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Chapter Text

By 1899, the age of outlaws and gunslingers was at an end. America was becoming a land of laws... Even the west had mostly been tamed. A few gangs still roamed, but they were being hunted down and destroyed.

...

The wind was harsh and unforgiving as a violent, damning snow storm raged on through the mountains caked in icy snow, the flakes stinging like shards of glass as they cut through the wind that whistles through the dark, shrouded night. Pine trees stand tall against the winds, the tips of the trees fluttering to and fro, snow and ice clinging stubbornly to the bristly pines of the branches. The muffled, distinct sound of a horse's neighing cries out, the sound nearly swallowed by the intense blizzard.

Horses pulling large caravans and wagons trudge through the thick, icy snow, the snow nearly reaching the knees of their strong, tall legs as the horses struggle against the wind and resistance of the wheels of the wagons pushing through the snow. The faint glimmer of lanterns could just barely be seen shining through the thick layers of snow dusting the area around the group, those driving the wagons hunched over slightly while shivering severely. Some men rode on horseback behind the wagons, their figures hunched over as they grasped the reins of their horses. A lean and somewhat frail man slowly and carefully steps off the back of one of the wagons being pulled, the man shivering and his form stumbling slightly as he gains his footing in the snow. A fair-skinned woman tends to a severely injured man, the man's breathing ragged and her dark, sapphire blue eyes filled with worry.

Orville Swanson, nicknamed 'Reverend', wore an all-dark outfit, his ebony long coat almost instantly becoming dusted with snow as he stepped out of the sanctuary of the wagon. His orange plaid scarf wrapped fully around his head and ears fluttered wildly around his neck, the shins of his black slacks hardening from the icy snow. His gloved hand reaches up and clamps down onto his hat over his graying ginger hair, ensuring it doesn't blow off into the wind as he makes his way around the wagon. Two older men sit side by side, one tightly grasping the reins of the mighty, albino coated shire horses that pulled the caravan with his leather gloved hands.

"Abigail says he's dying, Dutch," Orville desperately tells the man, struggling to keep up a bit through the snow as he walks alongside the caravan being pulled along. He lifts his arms slightly in a small, defeated motion, his lips curved down into a frown beneath his moustache. "We'll have to stop at some place."

Dutch grimaces at the news as his jaw tightens, his dark eyes flicking downward as his grip tightens around the reins. The man wore a thick, dark colored wooly chesterfield coat, heavy bags under his dark brown eyes and jaw covered in a scruff. His upper lip was decorated with a thick moustache, a soul patch beneath his lower lip. His dark hair curls slightly near the thick collar of his coat, the hat worn on his head covered in snow, along with his tall boots and dark trousers. The dark red crimson scarf around his neck was tied neatly and tucked into his coat, his skin a warm shade of tan.

"Okay," Dutch rasps to the man, his voice a bit breathless from the ice burning his lungs and his breath visible. "Arthur and (Y/N) are out looking. I sent them up ahead."

He nods up ahead for emphasis and with determination, Orville seeming to be worried as he nods in response, slowly turning as he makes his way back around the caravan. Beside Dutch sat a somewhat lanky, but not frail, older man, the man wearing a pewter green overcoat that had a blond furred neckline. The white of his collar of his shirt just barely peeked through the thick collar of the coat, his dark maroon and gray patterned scarf tucked tightly to his slender neck. His hair was surprisingly neat beneath his hat and was a light shade of silver, his jaws clean-shaven. His brown eyes were soft with kindness hidden in them despite his current state, wrinkles along the corners of them and his expression worn and tired.

"If we don't stop soon, we'll all be dying," Hosea points out weakly to Dutch with a shiver, hunching over as he hugs himself tightly.

Dutch glances back at those in the caravan with furrowed brows as his forehead wrinkles with worry, Orville climbing back into the wagon as he tends to the injured man lying down.

"This weather..." Hosea trails off for a moment, wincing and exhaling sharply as he looks around at the storm. "It's May!" he growls with disbelief and exhaustion, shaking his head as he looks forward. "I'm just hoping the law got as lost as we did."

The muffled sound of a horse neighing gains Hosea's attention, his eyes lighting up slightly as he points ahead.

"There!" Dutch exclaims with relief, noticing the outline of two figures approaching on horseback as he pulls the albino shire horses to a stop. "Arthur! (Y/N)!" he calls, his voice husky and tinged with hopeful relief. "Any luck?"

Two figures rode atop a single Appaloosa mare, her coat a Grulla blanket mix of primarily black and smokey gray, her backside and rear splashed with white and black spots dotting along her backside. Sitting first to the front of the saddle sat a woman, her breathing a bit heavy from the sharp sting of each breath and her breath visible. She wore a thick, stormy gray Macbay coat with a beige fur line that was buttoned up to her throat, a dark taupe colored leather gun belt wrapped around her hips lined with ammo pockets and a couple of small pouches, the copper buckle dull in the dark. Her hands were bundled up in a pair of beige fur-lined Avery gloves, the brown leather thick and warm around her fingers as she held a lantern up slightly as their light.

Her feet were donned with a worn pair of Rutherford boots, small, silver spurs attached. The legs of her dark, umber colored Cabrera pants were tucked into her boots and hardened from the icy snow, her (H/C) hair a bit messy from the wind and storm. A worn, caramel brown leather satchel was draped across her chest and hung at her side, a pistol holstered in the gun belt around her middle. She tilts her head back a bit, her (E/C) eyes squinting slightly as the stinging cold hits them, her form shivering occasionally.

Huddled behind (Y/N) on the saddle sat a tall, burly man, his large frame helping to ease some of the harsh wind from the woman in front of him. He wore a double breasted duffle coat crafted from aegean blue wool, the coat buttoned shut and the inside lined with a tan fur to help fight off the cold, a satchel's strap draped over his chest as well. His hands were covered in dark leather gloves and tightly grasped the reins in front of the woman, his thick, strong arms wound partially around her in an attempt to help ease the cold off her. His caramel brown leather gun belt was wound around his waist and also lined with pockets of ammo, his ranch pants a shade of wenge brown and his feet resting in the stirrups of the horse's saddle, his leather boots a worn shade of black and the spurs glinting slightly.

The curved brim of Arthur's black, scruffy and beloved Gambler's hat dips into his sea greenish blue eyes, his jaw and chin, along with his upper lip covered in a short-lengthed dark, cool toned brown beard. His skin was a cool toned creamy beige, his golden brown hair beneath his hat shaggy and slightly disarrayed from the whipping wind around them. His nose was a bit crooked along the bridge from being broken in the past, a faint, barely visible scar on his chin, the hair of his beard refusing to grow along the scarred skin.

Arthur exhales a shaky, visible breath through his lips as he tilts his head upward, his eyes squinted slightly. "We found a place where we can get some shelter!" he calls gruffly, his voice raised so the two men could hear him over the storm. "Let Davey rest while he..." He clears his throat, shaking his head. "You know."

"It looked like an old, abandoned mining town," (Y/N) calls to the two as she lowers the lantern in her grip a fraction, Taima nickering softly as she shuffles forward through the snow towards the wagon at a slow pace. "It's just up ahead."

Arthur taps his heel gently into the horse's side, urging her to turn around once more as her ear flickers. "Come on!" he urges.

Dutch lifts a bit in his seat with a nod, leaning out to the side and looking back at the others in the caravans behind him. "Come on!" the man screams over the wind with encouragement.

He flicks the reins of the shire horses, urging them into a quick trot as he follows the form of (Y/N) and Arthur on horseback, prompting the others to do the same. Some of the horses whinny with distress and protest at the stinging winds and slippery snow beneath their hooves, but they obey with a flick of the reins, their movements a bit sluggish through the thick layer of snow along the ground. The wind and icy shards of snow continue to rage around the group, the wind whistling ominously through the mountains.

...

An old, shabby wooden door was shoved open aggressively, Hosea standing in the door frame positioned defensively with his pistol drawn. His free hand grasped a lantern low at his side, his eyes squinted as he looked into the abandoned building apprehensively for a few moments. His coat was dusted with snow that stubbornly clung to the fabric, some of the white powder piled on the brim of his hat.

Hosea slowly steps inside as he keeps his gun drawn, the man lifting his lantern up and outward to shine the light inside the dark space. The interior was cluttered in some areas, but for the most part, was empty, some long, decaying wooden benches pushed to the sides. There were a few wooden shelves that were empty and a table pushed all the way to the far back wall, the ceiling tall and the interior of the building long, indicating it had previously been a Church.

The windows were covered in frost and wind softly whistled through the frames, but the wooden walls held strong against the storm. There was a tall fireplace along the left wall, the inside filled with ash and charred logs of wood that held no embers. Satisfied and reassured that there was no one inside, Hosea nods slightly to himself, his hand slowly holstering his weapon.

He steps back, his head turned to the left as he leans out, waving his hand urgently. "Bring him in here!"

Hosea quickly shuffles out of the way as he steps inside, Abigail rubbing her gloved hands together quickly for warmth as she enters the building. She wore a thick, dark plaid-patterned coat with a belt around the middle and a spruce blue long skirt, her raven black hair wrapped up in a scarf. She looks back to the men carrying Davey inside, one of them a burly man with a thick, medium length beard along his face, his long coat leather and cinnamon brown. His hat partially obscures his view as he steps inside, his arms behind his back as he carries Davey in on top of a hand-made stretcher. Arthur walks behind the stretcher carrying the other half, Orville shivering as he rushes in after the two.

(Y/N) hangs back at the door frame as she gently ushers the women inside, Dutch approaching and gently touching her shoulder while nodding with his head to the door, indicating for her to head inside as well. She exhales shakily with a nod in return as she passes the lantern to him, Dutch taking the handle and lingering at the door as he watches everyone enter before him. His eyes held concern and stress as the others filtered into the building, (Y/N) rubbing her arms and hugging herself slightly as she approached the men setting Davey's stretcher down onto the table in the far back area of the space.

A little boy trembles lightly as he stands close to a woman with warm, sienna brown skin, her dark brown eyes focused on Davey as she hugs herself for both comfort and warmth. Abigail looks over Davey with urgency and worry, her dark eyebrows knitted together with sadness. Orville steps closer as Arthur steps back out of the way, Bill moving aside as well to give them room. (Y/N) steps next to Abigail as she looks down at Davey, her expression melting with dread when she notices his eyes were half-lidded and unblinking, his chest no longer rising and falling with his previous ragged breathing.

"Miss Gaskill, get that fire lit quick!" a sharp, iron-toned woman's voice orders, though her tone was filled with a subtle tinge of concern. "Miss Jones, bring us whatever blankets we have."

The stern, older woman's hair was pulled back into a Gibson girl hairstyle with a few strands of hair falling into her forehead, her skin ivory and cheeks and nose tinged red from the cold. Susan's dark brown eyes scan along the room much like a mother hen would check on her chicks, her thin, lipstick covered lips pressed into a thin line and her forehead wrinkled with stress. Her fur coat was thick and covered in snow, her gloved hand clutching the upper collar shut gently.

Abigail's eyes widen as she stares at Davey, her expression tightening as her lips part. Her eyes flick to (Y/N), (Y/N)'s eyes meeting hers as well, (Y/N) shaking her head solemnly. Abigail exhales a soft gasp as her face falls, her eyes snapping to Davey as she leans closer. Her hand gently rests on the man's upper stomach for leverage, her ear hovering over his lips as she closes her eyes to focus on listening.

"Mr. Pearson, see what we've got in terms of food," Susan continues to order, nodding her head to the older, round-bellied man.

Karen heads towards the door to fetch the blankets, her curvaceous figure wrapped up in a long, aegon blue coat, a red scarf wrapped around her neck and another, darker scarf wrapped around her face and head, a hat resting on her head. Mary-Beth, a lovely, slender and kind-faced young woman, quickly approaches the fireplace, her hands trembling slightly and covered in pewter gray cloth gloves. She wore a shawl around her shoulders and her sepia brown hair, her skin pale and cheeks rosy and covered in a light layer of freckles. Her long, dark colored coat clung to figure as she works, the maroon skirt of her dress shifting slightly.

Tilly, a beautiful young woman with warm eyes and a gentle face, gently holds the little boy, Jack, to her side in reassurance to comfort the boy, her currant red colored shawl covered in snow, much like the other women. She wore a second shawl wrapped around her head like the others, the shawl a shade of berry red and her dress beneath her shawl two shades of yellow. Abigail slowly straightens up, her eyes sad as they flick open. Swallowing thickly, she turns to the others, sighing softly and shaking her head.

"Davey's dead," she tells the group, her head angling downward as she stares at the floor with defeat.

Sensing her guilt, Orville speaks up, his voice soft and reassuring, "There was... nothing more you could have done."

"He's right," (Y/N) quietly agrees with the man, Abigail sighing softly. "You did all you could for him, Abigail."

Abigail mutely nods as her eyes shut, the woman not seeming convinced as she frowns with sadness. Orville steps closer to Davey as he gently shuts his eyes, his free hand digging into his pocket as he pulls out two coins. He rests them over the man's now-shut eyes, sighing deeply.

"What are we gonna do?" Hosea questions Dutch, clearly stressed as he shakes his head. "We need supplies."

Dutch takes a deep breath, his eyes shifting to the man. "Well, first of all, you're gonna stay here," he tells him in a firm but not unkind tone. "And you are gonna get yourself warm."

(Y/N) looks at the others with worry as she notices their disheartened, exhausted states, the woman turning as she approaches where Dutch, Hosea and Arthur stood. Dutch sets down the lantern he was holding on a low table behind him, Hosea still holding his own, the light illuminating off the three.

"Now, I sent John and Micah scouting out ahead," Dutch continues, his hands clasped in front of him and his posture straightening with an aura of power and confidence. His dark eyes shift to (Y/N) as she approaches, the man gesturing to her with a lift of his hand, then to Arthur. "(Y/N), Arthur and I—"

Arthur's head snaps to Dutch at this, his eyes narrowing with annoyance as (Y/N)'s eyebrows raise slightly.

"— We're gonna ride out and see if we can find one of 'em," he finishes with a nod.

"In this?" Arthur huskily demands with disbelief, gesturing towards the door with a lift of his arm for emphasis.

Dutch turns to look out the opened door, the storm continuing to rage on as he turns back to Arthur with a short nod. "Just for a short bit," he reassures. "I don't see what other choice we have."

He shifts his weight on his feet as he turns himself to face the group, his eyes scanning along their weary, unnerved states.

"Listen..." he urges softly, his voice growing a bit louder but retaining its gentle strongness. "Listen to me all of you, for a moment." He straightens up, his hands clasped lightly in front of him as he sighs softly.

"Now, we've had... well, a bad couple of days." Dutch's eyes flick to where Davey's corpse laid, his expression tightened as he motions towards him with a hand. "I loved Davey," he continued mournfully. "Jenny..." he adds. "Sean, Mac... they may be okay, we don't know."

There was a moment of silence, Dutch swallowing thickly and seeming to be holding back tears as he rapidly blinked them away.

"But we lost some folks," he acknowledged solemnly, nodding his head as his eyes flicked along the group. "Now, if I could—" His voice wavers slightly, the man lifting a finger. "— throw myself in the ground in their stead... I'd do it. Gladly."

Arthur's eyes linger on Dutch for a moment before shifting to (Y/N), the man noticing her downcasted expression, as she was no doubt feeling the loss of their fellow members and friends as he was. His jaw clenches slightly as he frowns, a soft exhale leaving his nose as his attention returns back to Dutch, his fist clenching at his side.

"But... we're gonna ride out," Dutch continues, lowering his hand and nodding along as he speaks. "And we are gonna find some food."

Arthur nods once in agreement with confidence, (Y/N)'s gaze lifting from the floor to the others in the group as she herself gives a slight nod of agreement as well.

"Everybody..." Dutch pauses for a moment of emphasis, the group watching Dutch with rapt attention. "We're safe now," he promises with absolute certainty. "There ain't nobody following us through a storm like this one. And by the time they get here—" He shifts his weight on his feet, his hands lifting at his sides in a small motion. "— Well, we're gonna be... we're gonna be long gone."

He nods a few times, the man exuding confidence and assurance as he takes the time to look at each individual before him.

"We've been through worse than this before," the man encourages, his eyes flicking to where Simon stood near the back of the group. "Mr. Pearson."

Simon, an average heighted, round-bellied man looks up, his hair balding along the top but the dark brown strands reaching his collarbone. A bushy moustache decorated his upper lip, his pale skin rosy from the cold as he blew hot air into his glove-covered hands to warm them.

"Miss Grimshaw," Dutch continues, looking at the older woman, Susan straightening up with a confident, determined gleam in her eye. "I need you to turn this place into a camp. We may be here for a few days."

Simon and Susan both nod in acknowledgement at this, Susan's grip on the lantern she was holding tightening every so slightly. Beside her, an old, beer-bellied man slouched over slightly, his grayed beard frizzy and his hat tipped down over his eyes. Orville sighs softly from where he stood behind them, his breath visible along with the other's, their focus still on Dutch.

"Now all of you... all of you!" Dutch emphasizes imploringly, his voice strong and authoritative. "Get yourselves warm."

Tilly hugs herself slightly as she shifts her weight on her feet, her and Mary-Beth exchanging a brief glance before returning their attention to Dutch. Bill stood a few paces behind them, Simon beside them as they listened to their leader.

"Stay strong!"

Abigail sits on one of the benches that had been pulled out, the woman's arm wrapped around her son, Jack. The boy was only four, his hair a dark shade of cedar brown and sweeping along his forehead. His cheeks were flushed a rosy shade, the boy's soft and doe brown eyes lingering on the decaying floor.

"Stay. With. Me," Dutch emphasizes each word with emboldenment, nodding to each word slightly. "We ain't done yet!"

With that, Dutch turns on his heel, his form bending slightly as he grabs the lantern he had previously set down onto the wooden table.

"Come on, you two," he urges with the barest hint of impatience due to the stress of it all, his steps quick and sure as he heads outside.

Arthur hesitates as he watches Dutch leave, his eyes flicking to (Y/N) for a moment as he clears his throat. "You should stay here," he tells her in a gruff, but not unkind tone, his eyes squinted slightly with concern. "Get warm with the others, try and get some rest."

"I'll be fine," (Y/N) reassures with a shake of her head, rubbing her gloved hands together lightly and shakily sighing. "I'd rather not sit still. Gives me too much time to think."

Arthur frowns and softly grunts at this, the man seeming apprehensive to have her going along with them due to the blizzard but realizing she needs the distraction and that he couldn't stop her. He turns and pats Hosea's shoulder lightly in farewell as he passes the man, Hosea turning to watch them leave with a deep, concerned frown.

"Here," Hosea calls as he steps closer, offering his lantern to (Y/N) with a nod. "You'll need it to see out there in that mess."

(Y/N) pauses as she turns her head to the man, her expression softening at his clearly worried look. "Thank you, Hosea." She takes the lantern from him, exhaling quietly. "We'll be back soon," she reassures.

The crease in Hosea's brow eases ever so slightly at this, the older man nodding slightly as his lips press together in a thin line. His eyes follow the two as they head out together, a weary sigh leaving him.

"Alright! We got some work to do!" Susan declares confidently as she takes charge, her hands clapping together once as she turns to the women.

...

Outside, the voices of those in the building nearly instantly become muffled and muted from the storm, (Y/N) exhaling sharply and wincing as she steps outside into the icy snow. Arthur stood beside Dutch, his shoulders hunched slightly due to the extreme cold, Dutch breathing heavily as he looked around with his lantern lifted to see better. (Y/N) adjusts the collar of her coat as she shuffles through the snow to stand beside Arthur, her gloved hand reaching up as she smoothes back some of her hair from her face.

"Well, we ain't run into them yet," Dutch points out, his voice trembling slightly from the cold. "So... they both must have headed down this hill."

"Must have," (Y/N) agrees with Dutch, her lungs burning slightly as her eyes flick around. "Arthur and I hardly saw this place through the storm. If they didn't catch glimpse of it, they'd have kept heading that way." She nods the direction Dutch was looking, her hand gripping the lantern tightly.

Arthur nods slightly. "Sure," he simply agrees, though he seems indifferent about the situation, his arms lightly hugging himself before his eyes narrow and flick over to Dutch. "Hey." He stops the man from moving, his hand lifted slightly. "We ain't had time to ask..."

Dutch frowns as he turns to face the two, (Y/N)'s eyes shifting from Arthur to Dutch, her brow furrowed slightly as her lips tug back into a frown.

"What really went down back there on that boat?" Arthur questions with confusion and a hint of anger, his expression hardened with uncertainty.

Dutch's jaw clenches slightly, though he shows no other reaction. "We missed you two," he answers after a moment, his eyes briefly flicking between Arthur and (Y/N). "That's what happened."

(Y/N)'s head twitches slightly at the vague, deflecting response, her gaze shifting to Arthur. The man doesn't seem pleased by Dutch's response either, but he says nothing, Dutch shaking his head as he turns away.

"Come on," Dutch urges, his form hobbling slightly as he trudges through the snow.

Arthur watches the man for a brief moment before exhaling sharply and shakily, slowly following through the snow. (Y/N) sniffles and shivers as she follows Arthur, her eyes flicking down and noticing that the man seemed to be purposefully dragging his feet more than necessary. She realizes it was for her benefit, his boots and legs shoveling aside snow to create a better walkway for her to follow. Her expression softens as she looks up to the man's back, the sound of a horse whinnying audible from their right.

"Hey." Dutch nods towards a figure approaching, causing Arthur to stop as (Y/N) glances over as well.

Charles Smith, a lofty, brawny man with tawny brown skin stomps through the snow leading two horses, a white Arabian horse to his right, and Taima, his own horse, to his left. He wore a black buttoned long coat, the collars straightened upward to cover the sides of his face partially from the cold, a hat donned on his head and a shawl wrapped around his long, cedar colored hair and ears to fend off the cold. His right hand was bound with bandaging, his large frame shivering slightly as he approached.

"You need horses?" Charles calls to the three loudly over the storm, his voice strong yet also somehow soft.

"Oh, yeah," Dutch agrees breathlessly as he nods, walking partially sideways through the snow for a moment before slowing to a stop as he lifts the lantern upward. "And Mr. Smith, get yourself indoors."

Charles winces as he pulls gently on the reins of The Count with his injured hand, though he continues forward, his features illuminated by the glow of the lantern as he slows to a stop. The scar along the right side of his jaw stands out against the faint stubble along his face, a dark mark beneath his right eye.

"You need to rest that hand," Dutch continues to fuss as he approaches his horse, mounting up with a faint grunt of effort.

Arthur shifts towards Taima as he rubs his hands together lightly, his eyes flicking to (Y/N) before he wordlessly motions with his head for her to climb on first. He takes the lantern from her, stepping aside out of her way.

"I'll live," Charles tries to brush off Dutch's concern, his tone unworried.

Dutch's eyes narrow. "Get indoors, son!" he barks sternly, his tone holding no room for argument. "I—" He pauses, shaking his head. "— We, need you strong."

(Y/N) climbs up onto Taima's saddle, the horse softly nickering and shifting with the new weight before settling with a small flick of her tail. (Y/N) adjusts her weight as her legs straddle the saddle, one of her hands gripping the horn of the saddle as she reaches out, Arthur lifting the lantern to her hand for her to hold. He steps closer before easily climbing up himself, his leg carefully swinging over the horse before he lowers down, settling himself behind the woman with a deep, steadying exhale. He shifts back ever so slightly, creating just a small sliver of space between them out of respect, his arms lifting to partially wrap around her as he grabs the reins.

Charles nods reluctantly at Dutch's orders, his arms hugging himself. "Okay."

"We'll take care of Taima for you," (Y/N) calls reassuringly to Charles as the man steps back, causing his eyes to shift up to her.

His gaze shifts away as he mutely nods his head, (Y/N) not taking offense due to knowing that he wasn't much of a talker, as he was still fairly new to the gang. Dutch kicks in his heels as he urges The Count into a trot, his free hand holding his own lantern while the other holds the reins. Arthur slides his feet into the stirrups before lightly kicking his heels into Taima's sides, the horse snorting softly before starting in a walk. Lightly clicking his tongue and tapping his heels once more, Taima was urged into a trot, her pace now matching The Count's as they rode out.

"Alright!" Dutch breathes out as he steers The Count, nodding. "Let's head out."

Arthur sighs shakily as he glances around at the storm raging around them, his chest expanding a bit. His eyes flick down to (Y/N) sitting in front of him, the man noticing her shoulders trembling slightly; though, she tries to hide it. The man faintly grunts under his breath with resignation and worry, and he allows himself to slowly fill that small space he had previously left, his chest pressing lightly against her back in an effort to help her keep warm with his own barely-there body heat.

"Ain't sure... what we're gonna find out here, Dutch," he calls to the man huskily, still unconvinced they should even be out searching for the two men they had yet to see.

"We have to try," Dutch encourages, not looking back as they continue riding out. "Stay close. We'll do our best to keep to the trail."

The Count and Taima trot alongside one another, their legs lifting high as they trudge through the thick, icy snow. The snow reaches their knees, the horse's breaths visible with each huff and snort as their ears flicker occasionally. The wind howls around the three as the blizzard continues, the tall pine trees swaying slightly with it along the trail.

"This goddamn weather," Arthur growls under his breath with irritation at the cold, exhaling sharply through his teeth.

"Been two days or more like this now," Dutch grumbles in agreement, his shoulders trembling occasionally. "Oh, it has to blow over, soon."

"I'd prefer it be tomorrow," (Y/N) chimes in, scoffing as her breath puffs into the air. "But I doubt it."

(Y/N)'s eyes shift along the barely visible trail they were taking as she holds the lantern up, the light illuminating off them and shining on the snow. She grimaces as the icy wind stings her face, her nose nearly numb and her teeth threatening to chatter. She forces down the urge, her form subconsciously leaning back further into Arthur. Their forms slowly begin to generate the barest amount of warmth between them, but it was better than nothing.

Arthur's form tenses slightly as he feels her lean back into him, but he says nothing in protest. His jaw ticks as his eyes avert away and his brows furrow, his arms slowly and subtly tightening around her form as his fingers adjust on the reins. Icy snow begins to gather and cling to the fabric of their coats, Arthur's frame shielding (Y/N)'s from most of it, his backside now covered in snow.

"Bridge coming up," Dutch warns as they follow the path. "Take it easy."

Heeding his warning, Arthur gently tugs slightly on the reins, Taima huffing softly as she slows a fraction. She turns with the motion of the reins, her head shaking out a bit as they cross over the small bridge caked in snow. The Count whinnies as Dutch guides him along the trail, the man shifting as he holds the lantern out a bit further to see it better.

A few moments of silence pass between the three as they continue on, the snow still pouring down around them.

"Can't believe we lost Davey, too," Arthur mutters somberly, shaking his head.

(Y/N)'s chest tightens at the words as she nods her head slightly in agreement, her expression softening with sadness as her hand tightens around the horn of the saddle.

"He's the last one, Arthur," Dutch promises, his voice holding pain as well and wavering slightly. "No. More." He swallows thickly. "We need to get those people warm and fed."

(Y/N) nods. "The fireplace will help 'em," she points out with a soft sigh. "Food, though... not sure Pearson grabbed much before we left," she adds with a hint of uncertainty.

Arthur scoffs quietly at this, his expression shifting to a mildly irritated one at the information.

"Least we don't need to worry about Pinkertons tailin' us in this," he comments in a bitter drawl.

"A couple more days, we'll be on the other side," Dutch reassures the two, nodding to himself as his eyes narrow with determination and resolve. "You two need to help me pick the others back up. You two're the only ones I can rely on to stay strong right now."

(Y/N)'s features soften slightly, a sense of both pride and sadness mixing in her chest. Her thoughts drift to those they lost, her mind still reeling from how much everything has changed in the span of just a few short days.

"Like (Y/N) said... we got a fire. And shelter," Arthur replies with a hint of encouragement. "That's a start."

The three continue down the path atop their horses, Taima's ears occasionally flickering as she listens to the whistling wind around them. A soft, anxious nicker leaves her, her head twitching lightly as her ears begin to slowly flatten. (Y/N) notices her growing unease, her hand releasing the horn of the saddle as she softly shushes the animal in reassurance. Her hand gently strokes along Taima's thick neck, the horse quietly neighing before snorting as her ears perk forward once more. Satisfied, (Y/N) slowly lifts her hand from the horse, her hand returning to grasp the horn of the saddle as she turns her attention to Dutch trotting along beside them on The Count.

"You think that ferry was a trap?" she questions Dutch with apprehension and unease. "In Blackwater."

Arthur perks up at the question as he looks to Dutch expectantly for a response, his gaze then shifting ahead as he focuses on keeping Taima on the path. 

Dutch's expression darkens slightly. "That many men?" He bitterly and humorlessly laughs, his grip tightening on the reins of his horse. "Oh, they knew we were coming," he answers, sighing. "But there was money on that boat, all right. Lots of it."

(Y/N)'s brows furrow at his response, her thoughts racing on how the law could possibly have known of Dutch's plan. She couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at the lack of information that had been given to them so far, so many questions still left unanswered.

"Hey," Dutch's voice brings her from her thoughts. "I think I see something up the path."

(Y/N)'s eyes dart ahead as she lifts the lantern slightly, Arthur lightly tugging on the reins to bring Taima to a stop. The horse quietly grunts as she slows and shifts on her legs, The Count halting as well with a light tug from Dutch. The faint outline of a figure on a horse could be seen through the snow flurrying around, Arthur's eyes squinting.

"You up ahead! Who's there?" Dutch calls firmly without fear, his tone holding the faintest hint of apprehension.

The figure draws near and the glow of a lantern could now be seen, the lantern illuminating off their features. The man's hair was shoulder length and a dirty shade of blond, a hat sitting atop his head. His long coat was made of dark brown leather and he wore gloves on his hands, a panel pale green bandana bundled at his throat and his eyes a pale, cold shade of blue. A thick, bushy horseshoe moustache was along his upper lip that trailed down either side of his cheeks, his beard extending along his jaws, but not his cheeks. A large scar was noticeable that went from the left side of his lower lip down, then to the right, his eyebrows bushy and lifted slightly.

Micah rode on a Missouri Fox Trotter with a rare black coat, the horse's face covered in a white skull-face pattern and his eyes icy blue. Baylock had white socks on all four legs, his legs long and lanky as he trudged through the snow towards the three, his ebony tail flicking.

"Micah," Dutch greets with relief.

"Micah," (Y/N) grumbles with indifference, Arthur huffing quietly at this in agreement with her tone.

Micah nods with a neutral expression. "Gentlemen... and Lady," he greets, his voice a bit raspy.

"Found anything?" Dutch questions the man as he approaches on his horse.

He nods. "I think so," he replies as he urges Baylock closer, the horse leisurely walking through the thick snow. "Found a little homestead down thataway."

Dutch perks up at this, nodding. "Okay. Anyone home?"

"Sure," Micah replies with a slight hint of amusement. "Place is blazing with light and noise. Sounded like a party."

"Let's go see," Dutch urges.

"Follow me," Micah tells the three as he steers his horse with one hand, his other grasping his lantern.

Baylock quietly nickers as he turns around, his tail flicking as he is urged into a trot with a rough, light kick of Micah's heels. Dutch urges The Count to follow, Arthur lightly tapping his own heel into Taima's side as she begins to follow the two.

"How's Davey doing?" Micah questions as he leads the three.

"Ah, he didn't make it," Dutch solemnly replies, his voice strained with a hint of sadness. "Nor did little Jenny."

Micah nods at this without looking back. "That's too bad. Davey was a real fighter. Both of them Callander boys is..." He pauses. "Or... heh, was."

"Yeah..." Dutch agrees quietly.

"And Mac and Sean?"

Dutch shakes his head slightly. "We don't know."

Micah clicks his tongue softly. "Quite... a... business," he replies impassively.

(Y/N)'s ears could barely pick up what the two men were saying over the storm and wind, the woman instead shifting her focus to the trail as she looked down along it for any sign of tracks. She knew it was a longshot, as the snow was constantly raining down, but her eyes remained peeled.

The horses follow along in a line, Micah at the front with Baylock, Dutch following behind on The Count, and Arthur and (Y/N) on Taima. The horses trot along in a brisk pace, snow beginning to build up on their manes and rears.

"I'm glad you're alright, Micah!" Dutch calls loudly to the man ahead.

"Always!" his voice faintly calls back over the storm, muffled.

Arthur looks ahead with narrowed eyes. "Ask him if he's seen John!" he barks at Dutch loudly.

Dutch nods to indicate he heard. "Hey!" the man shouts to Micah. "Have you seen John, Micah?"

"Didn't see much of anything once this storm came in," Micah calls back, his voice quiet to Arthur and (Y/N).

"He hasn't seen him!" Dutch yells back to Arthur.

(Y/N) frowns at this, her brows furrowing in a displeased manner. "Weren't they supposed to stay together to scout the area?" she questions Dutch loudly.

"Storm must've separated the two!" the man calls back over his shoulder.

Arthur quietly snorts at this. "He'll be fine," he brushes off in a careless, almost bitter tone. "Things always turn out right for the boy."

(Y/N) gently elbows Arthur's side with disapproval, the woman knowing how anxious and worried Abigail would be despite her attempts to seem otherwise.

"I hope... Mac and Sean are still out there somewhere, too," Dutch  says with a hopeful uncertainty and sorrow.

The horses continue in a line through the snow up a slanted hill, the full moon's pale glow shining through the thick snow and fog in the air and the silhouette of the tall pine trees. (Y/N) sighs quietly as she looks ahead, her eyes watching Dutch for a few moments.

"How're you doing, Arthur?" she questions, her voice lowered, but not to the point he couldn't hear her.

Arthur glances down at her, his expression tightening slightly. His brow furrows as his jaw clenches slightly, the man stifling a soft sigh as his eyes shift to the side for a moment.

"'M fine," he mumbles unconvincingly with a slight shake of his head, not wanting to stress the woman out further with his own problems. "More worried 'bout you, to be honest."

He clears his throat lightly, one of his hands releasing the reins as he reaches up, adjusting his hat as some snow falls off the brim.

(Y/N)'s lips purse into a small frown as she glances down at Taima, her hand not holding the lantern reaching out to gently brush some snow clinging to the horse's dark mane.

"I'm exhausted. And upset," she truthfully answers, sighing quietly. "But... at least we're alive."

She nods at her own words, slowly leaning to the side of the horse as she glances back over her shoulder and up to the man. Her eyebrows were knitted together, her eyes softened with grief and a hint of vulnerability.

"Right?" she softly urges, managing a weak, faint-hearted smile as her head slightly tilts.

Arthur's gaze softens as his jaw slowly unclenches, his shoulders slowly losing their tightened posture and tension as he looks down at her. The man slowly nods his head a couple of times, the corners of his own lips lifting in an exhausted smile that mirrored her own.

"Right," he agrees reassuringly and lowly, his voice surprisingly soft and holding a faint rasp. "We'll be alright."

(Y/N)'s eyes shift between his own, her smile softening slightly with his reassurance as she nods. She turns her head to face forward once more, exhaling heavily and shivering from the cold.

"Hey, Arthur!" Dutch's voice hollers from ahead, gaining the two's attention. "Let me take the rear, you two move up!"

Arthur doesn't reply, but he kicks his heels gently into Taima's side with a click of his tongue, her ear flicking and a nicker leaving the horse as she obeys his wordless command. She picks up the pace of her trotting, her form bouncing slightly with her steps as she is guided slightly off the path. Dutch gently tugs back on his reins, urging The Count to slow down as Arthur and (Y/N) pass on Taima. Dutch takes the rear, Arthur and (Y/N) now in the center and Micah still leading them up the hill. Arthur looks around apprehensively as his form presses a bit closer to (Y/N), his shoulders shaking briefly before he looks ahead.

"You sure about this, Micah?" Arthur demands loudly over the wind.

Micah glances back over his shoulder for a brief moment, his eyes squinting slightly as he realizes that Dutch was now further away, replaced by (Y/N) and Arthur.

"Mr. Morgan," he greets wryly and casually. "I never thought I would be so pleased to see your face." He looks over his shoulder once more briefly, his cold eyes landing on (Y/N) riding in front of Arthur. "And, of course, Miss (Y/N) (L/N). Always a delight to see you," he comments, dragging the word 'delight' in a drawl as he says it.

(Y/N)'s eyes flick upward in a brief rolling motion with exasperation and indifference as she remains silent in response, the woman accustomed to the man's not-so-subtle flirting by this point, her teeth clicking together softly as her jaw tightens. Arthur's gaze hardens and becomes stormy as he regards Micah with irritation, his arms subconsciously tightening their hold around (Y/N) as his fingers tighten around the reins.

"Been kind of... lonely out here," Micah continues as he faces ahead once more, his tone laced with insinuation as he shifts his hips restlessly over Baylock's saddle. "Where's everyone else?"

"Old mining camp, back up the hill," Arthur answers through clenched teeth.

Micah snorts derisively. "Huddled around a fire waiting for daddy to put food on the table..." He shakes his head. "I've said it before. We've got too many mouths to feed."

(Y/N)'s expression hardens. "Yours among them. I reckon you should keep it to yourself, considerin' you're still the newest mouth there is," she says back dryly with a hint of warning. Scoffing, she looks downward with a pained grimace. "Besides. We've got less folks to feed now, so I'm sure you're happy about that."

"That ain't fair, (L/N). I earn my share," Micah responds defensively, guiding his horse along the slanted hill. "You think it's unreasonable to expect others to do the same?"

Arthur grunts with clear annoyance. "Everyone does their part. Might not be shootin' others, but it's somethin'."

(Y/N) nods in agreement with Arthur firmly despite the fact Micah couldn't see her, her brow furrowed and her eyes squinted from both the cold and from the burning feeling of rising anger in her chest. Shaking her head slightly, she opts to ignore the man, a sharp exhale leaving her lips. Micah doesn't respond to Arthur's words, the wind whipping around them as they continue on.

"So, this house..." Arthur starts with reluctance and apprehension, eyes focused on Micah. "You speak to the people there already?"

"No. Like Dutch told us... look, but don't talk to no one," Micah replies back, rolling his shoulders slightly in a gesture. "Just following orders. You know me. I'm a good boy."

(Y/N) chortles quietly to herself, Arthur's ears faintly picking up the sound. The corners of his lips quirk up ever so slightly, the man's eyes darting down to the top of her head.

"Right," Arthur drawls, his tone indicating he didn't fully agree, but he doesn't say otherwise.

The horses continue through the thick, icy and hard snow, Taima's head bobbing slightly as she prances, clearly growing agitated by the snow around her. She snorts and shakes her head out as she steadies herself, her legs lifting high as she trots after Baylock, Dutch on The Count following the three. The hill finally begins to even out and grants the horses some rest, their breaths heavy and visible as the hill begins to slant downward.

"Oh, goddamn this snow!" Dutch complains with frustration and exhaustion, shivering as he exhales shakily. "Gets right to the bone."

(Y/N) leans slightly as she looks behind her and Arthur with a frown, noticing Dutch's exhausted, shivering state. The man looked completely drained, his grip on his lantern tight and his shoulders trembling slightly as he pants softly, each puff of air dissipating.

"You alright back there, Dutch?" she calls with concern.

His eyes shift upward, the man nodding once as his features soften. "Yeah. Tired, but... we all are," he replies back. "We'll find some food, go back, warm up, get some rest. Be like new men and women again."

Arthur snickers quietly, his head shaking slightly as he sighs deeply. "This snow better stop soon or we'll never dig those wagons out."

(Y/N) grimaces at the dreadful thought of having to dig the wagons out of thick layers of snow, nodding her head in agreement. "I hope it does. Horses won't do good for long in this weather, either."

Taima lets out a soft whinny, almost as if she were agreeing with the statement, the horse huffing softly as she trots through the snow, her hooves kicking the hard powder aside with each step. Micah continues to lead the three on horseback for a few more minutes, no sign of life— animal or otherwise— around as the blizzard rages on.

"Okay!" Micah suddenly exclaims breathlessly, gaining their attention as he slows Baylock into a walk. "Let's keep it down now, people. It's just up ahead."

Micah guides Baylock towards the hillside, Dutch urging The Count into a faster trot to catch up with the three as Arthur guides Taima to the edge of the hill as well. Down in the clearing below was a homestead, empty corrals around the building and a few paths trudged through the snow, indicating people had recently been through. There was a tall, lone barn further from the main house with a lantern lit outside, the windows and porch of the home lit up, implying there were people home.

"Snuff and stash those lanterns, you two," Dutch orders Micah and (Y/N), (Y/N) turning the lantern's dial as the light dims out inside. "Arthur, Micah, best you two lie low on this."

(Y/N) lowers the lantern down and carefully attaches it to Taima's saddle near her thigh, Taima softly nickering and shifting restlessly due to being so close to the hillside. Arthur looks down at the homestead with a frown, (Y/N) looking down at the area as well with scrutiny.

"Okay... let's head down there," Dutch encourages the three, pulling on The Count's reins as he guides the horse to walk along the hillside, leaving his lantern lit.

Micah leads Dutch on Baylock as Arthur guides Taima to follow the two men, Taima trotting slightly as she walks through the same path taken by the other two horses. The horses descend down a steep, snow-covered slope, Arthur's grip tightening on the reins as he tugs loosely, urging Taima to slow a bit as she descends after the two others. (Y/N) grips the horn of the saddle with both hands as her form leans forward from the angle, Arthur grunting quietly as he notices. One of his hands releases the reins, his arm winding around her middle in a quick motion to steady her back against his chest.

(Y/N)'s form stiffens with surprise from the sudden action, her hand releasing the horn of the saddle in favor of gripping his sleeve-covered forearm draped across her middle, his large hand grasping her hip in a firm hold to keep her from slipping off the saddle.

"Thanks," she whispers quietly, one of her hands holding his arm and the other holding the horn of the saddle still.

Arthur barely hears the word of gratitude, his eyes shifting to the side awkwardly, though he inwardly preens. "Don't mention it," he gruffly responds, trying not to show how much the simple thanks caused his heart to stutter in his chest.

The horses curve to the left around the bend as they make it to the bottom of the hill's side, Arthur slowly sliding his arm from around (Y/N)'s middle. He clears his throat as his hand lingers for a moment on her side, the man briskly shaking his head to himself before releasing her, his hand returning to grasp the reins and his grip noticeably tighter. The pine trees cluster on either side of the non-existent path, The Count whinnying softly as Dutch takes the lead. The trees then clear up as they enter the homestead's land, a worn, wooden fence along the edges of the land.

"Let's hitch up here," Dutch tells the others, his voice quieted but still audible over the storm.

(Y/N) looks up with apprehension when she hears the sound of lively laughter coming from inside the home, the thought of encountering a large amount of people not sounding entirely pleasant at the moment. Music was muffled by the walls of the home but could be heard, the wind of the storm muting it slightly as well. Arthur guides Taima after Dutch and Micah, Taima shifting and side-stepping to the right of The Count as he tugs the reins to a stop.

Arthur dismounts first with a quiet grunt, the man sliding his foot free from the stirrup. He steps towards Taima's front while stroking her neck gently, (Y/N) unlooping the reins from her neck and lowering them into Arthur's hand. He ties the reins loosely to the wooden fence, exhaling shakily and rubbing his hands together as he looks up slightly to (Y/N). He steps back slightly before lifting his arm up and out wordlessly, an invitation to accept his help if she wanted or needed it. (Y/N)'s eyes shift down to his arm before softening, the woman hesitating before reaching out.

Her fingers delicately brush against his forearm before her hand grasps it, the woman shifting and lifting herself slightly. Arthur's arm flexes to keep her steady as she uses his arm for support, her leg unhooking from Taima's side and lowering down onto the ground. (Y/N) follows the motion smoothly and gracefully, her hand still gripping Arthur's arm as she steadies herself on the snowy terrain.

"Let me do the talking," Dutch tells the three as he walks around Taima, approaching the two with Micah following right after. "We don't wanna scare these folks."

Dutch holds his lantern up slightly as he trudges through the snow, Arthur following with (Y/N) alongside him, Micah looking around the area as he follows behind the three.

"Someone's having fun in there," Micah comments with a nod of his head, the jaunty sound of a muffled, violin playing an upbeat melody from inside.

Dutch breathes heavily as he kicks through the snow, the man glancing back as he waves his hand towards the left. "You two, get yourself out of sight," he tells Arthur and Micah, looking between the two before turning his focus to (Y/N). "(Y/N), you come along with me now," he orders, his tone gentle.

(Y/N) looks at Dutch with a hint of surprise and confusion, but she nods loyally, the woman adjusting the belt around her middle as she walks alongside the man towards the house. Arthur's gaze flicks from her to Dutch as his expression hardens slightly, his lips parting in what seemed to be the start of a protest before the words die as Dutch continues.

"One lonely man with a woman is a lot less intimidating than us three nasty degenerates," Dutch jokes with a gruff laugh, nodding towards Arthur and Micah. "They might show more kindness if you're with me." He looks back to Micah and Arthur. "Micah, hide behind that wagon. Arthur, you take that old shed on the left. And stay low, both of you."

Dutch motions to the shed and the wagon on the left side, a tarp draped over the wagon and the cattle shed empty. Arthur's eyes linger on (Y/N) walking alongside Dutch briefly as his eyebrow twitches, the man turning and following Micah off the path towards the shed. Arthur's knees lift with his tall steps through the snow, the snow reaching the lower halves of his shins. Snow dampens and hardens his pants, his boots shining with snow as he rounds around the shed, the man breathing out deeply as he steps onto the dirt only dusted with snow.

He lowers down into a crouch with his side leaning against the wooden fence of the shed, his head turned to the left as his eyes follow Dutch and (Y/N) like a hawk. Micah ducks down behind the wagon Dutch had pointed out, the wagon resting on its handles and slanted. The tarp flutters in the wind, Micah's eyebrows furrowing as his nose scrunches. Shaking his head to himself, his attention shifts to Dutch and (Y/N) approaching the homestead.

Dutch gingerly holds his arm out in front of (Y/N) to stop her from approaching further, the man coming to a stop as well. They stood a few feet from the door, Dutch's hand grasping the lantern as he looked up to the home.

"Hello?" Dutch calls in a friendly, desperate voice, his voice loud enough for those inside to certainly hear.

The music inside abruptly comes to a stop, followed by a man hissing, "Shut up, Billy! Shh, shh, shh!"

"Excuse me?" Dutch continues with that same tone, his hand trembling slightly from the cold as it clasps his coat shut. "Hello?"

Unease fills (Y/N)'s stomach as she listens to the sounds inside, her eyes subconsciously flicking to the shed where Arthur hid. She could barely see the top of his familiar hat peeking out over the wooden gate of the shed, a person unable to notice this unless they knew for a fact there was a man there. Her eyes snap forward when the door to the home is yanked open roughly, Dutch's form shifting a step towards (Y/N) instinctively as his gaze locks onto a man stepping out. The man's dark eyes stare at the two coldly, an unfriendly frown etched onto his face.

"Oh! Well!" Dutch lets out a short, exhausted and friendly chuckle. "Hello friend."

"What'chu want?" the man demands suspiciously and aggressively.

(Y/N)'s hand reaches up slightly to grasp the lower button of her coat, her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she frowns.

"We are... very sorry to disturb you," Dutch apologizes, seeming to be unbothered by the hostility of the man. "Uh— my daughter and I, well..." He nods to (Y/N) as his hand gently presses against her back, urging her to step forward so the man could see her and hopefully ease up. "We got into some... trouble up the way with some friends. Lost in the storm."

(Y/N)'s expression shifts from apprehensive to one of a damsel, her features softening with feigned exhaustion and woefulness— though, it wasn't very hard to pretend. The man's eyes linger on her in a way that makes her skin crawl, her eyes shifting to Dutch for reassurance as the man walks down the short set of steps closer to the two. The man lifts his lantern, his eyes squinting as he gets a better look of her.

-

From the shed, Arthur's fingers flex and curl repeatedly in restless habit as he watches the scene, his jaw clenching as another man steps out from the house, another man lingering at the doorway. His chest tightens with a fierce, protective urge to leap out, but he remains low, his eyes unblinking as he watches with Micah. Micah shakes his head as the wind flutters the tarp once more, his expression tightening with disgust at the stench wafting from the wagon as his eyes snap to it.

-

"Ah! Gentlemen," Dutch greets, the faintest hint of uncertainty in his voice at the sight of the other men.

"We could maybe take in you and... your daughter," the man says slowly, his tone laced with barely contained lust as his eyes roam over (Y/N)'s features.

(Y/N)'s stomach twists with growing nausea and anger, her teeth clenching so hard she thought she may crack a tooth. She forces a friendly smile as she nods, her form tensed up as her hand tightens around the button of her coat. Dutch's gaze hardens as he stares at the man, his eyes squinting before he puts on a smile himself.

"Oh! That would be... be very kind of you," he manages out in a grateful tone, though (Y/N) could hear the underlying strain to his words. "We— We got... other folk—"

-

The brim of Arthur's hat dipped into his forehead as he glared at the man standing before (Y/N) and Dutch from his hiding spot in the shed, his form trembling— but not from the cold, no. From fury. He barely contains the urge to move from cover to beat the man down for eyeing (Y/N) as if she were meat rather than a person, his blood boiling.

Micah's ragged breathing begins to fill Arthur's ears, the man, however, not looking away from Dutch and (Y/N) as Dutch continues to converse with the men, the man noticeably shifting partially in front of (Y/N).

"Arthur..." Micah raspily calls, panting sharply. "Arthur, we got a problem."

Arthur's eyes snap to Micah with irritation at having to look away from guarding (Y/N) and Dutch, however, his annoyed expression falters as he notices Micah's genuine distress and urgency. Micah lifts the tarp slightly as his face falls and pales, the man breathing heavily as he looks over the decaying corpse laid in the wagon.

"There's a corpse right here," he breathes out to the man.

Arthur's heart sinks as his gaze quickly returns to (Y/N) and Dutch with alarm, the man sighing deeply through his throat with confliction of how to proceed.

"Arthur!" Micah hisses as the man doesn't reply. "There's a body in the wagon!" he emphasizes, his voice hushed and sharp.

"Yeah, I hear you!" Arthur growls back to Micah with frustration, his eyes flicking down as his eyebrows furrow in thought. "Just... keep your eyes on Dutch and (Y/N)."

Arthur angles his body to face the wooden gate as he peers over it at the two, his eyes narrowing as one of the men makes a comment while nodding towards (Y/N) before lecherously laughing with heartiness.

-

"Yeah! We could definitely use another woman to liven up this party of ours. Was gettin' dull," the man standing before (Y/N) and Dutch with the lantern agrees with the one who had made the lewd comment.

(Y/N)'s eyes narrow at the mention of 'another woman', the sentence obviously implying there was a woman here. And by the man's tone, she had a heavy suspicion that things weren't as they seemed in this isolated homestead. Her eyes shift upward as she looks along the home, noticing there was a man standing in the window above looking over them while holding a rifle.

"Please, sir," Dutch firmly grits out, though he keeps his tone polite. "My daughter is dear to me, and I'd prefer you not speak of her in that manner."

Movement to the left gains Arthur's attention, his eyes narrowing as he spots another man lurking along the side of the home, a rifle wielded in his hand as he peers around at Dutch and (Y/N). Arthur's hand lowers as he slides his silver, cattleman revolver out from his holster, Micah unholstering his own gun as he notices the man as well.

"I think you should go now, buddy," the man replies in an uncaring, confident tone, his hands resting on his hips as he steps closer. "Leave the lady and head on back from where ya came."

Dutch shakes his head. "I will not do that, friend," he firmly states with absolute certainty. He turns his head to look down at (Y/N), his expression tightened. "It seems there... is no help to be found here, my dear. We should be on our way now."

The man watches the exchange with a growing scowl, his eyes zeroing in on Dutch's face before his eyes widen. He studies the man's features before his gaze flicks to (Y/N), his brow furrowing as his lips part.

"Hey... I don't believe it!" he exclaims with disbelief. "Come here, partner," he insisted to Dutch, causing the man to look over with a frown. "Come here!" he barks sharply.

(Y/N)'s fingers clasp the button of her coat tightly, her eyes flicking to Dutch with concern and apprehension as the man obliges, shuffling forward a small step and further into the light.

"It's goddamn Dutch van der Linde, you morons!" the man suddenly yells, his tone hardened with disdain as he draws his pistol and aiming it between (Y/N) and Dutch. "Colm is going to shit his pants—!"

A shot rings out as Arthur shoots the man through his temple, instantly killing the bastard. (Y/N)'s fingers flick off of the button of her coat and to her side as she draws her own cattleman revolver in a swift motion, the woman aiming as she fires at the belly of the man who had been making lewd comments of her the entire conversation. The pistol was customized with an ebony barrel, the frame the same and the grip a beautiful ivory. The full body of the gun was engraved with a golden baroque design, the gun itself an old gift from Arthur for her birthday many years ago.

Dutch draws his own double pistols as he begins to fire at the other men lurking inside the doorway, Micah taking quick aim as he shoots the man that had been lurking to the left of the home. (Y/N)'s eyes darted to Arthur before Dutch was grabbing her by the crook of her elbow, the man hastily yanking her along before throwing himself and her down behind a slanted, wooded cover for protection as bullets began to fly.

(Y/N) peers out from cover as Dutch fires at the doorway as another man filters out, (Y/N) gasping and ducking back while pushing Dutch to do the same as they were shot at from the man who had been in the window.

"Arthur, the window!" (Y/N) shouts over to the man as the structure's wood was splintered, another shot ringing out as their cover was shot at.

Arthur's head snaps up as he looks to the window, the man rising to his full height as he takes aim. He fires and strikes the man's shoulder, causing him to scream out as blood paints the window's frame. The man stumbles and looks to where Arthur stood, Arthur staring him down before firing another shot, the bullet piercing through the man's chest this time. The man sputters before falling back out of view, no doubt dead.

(Y/N)'s eyes catch movement as a man bursts from the outhouse while he hastily tugs up his pants, his hand fumbling with his gun. (Y/N) aims and fires at the man, the bullet hitting his collarbone as he screams and staggers. Dutch looks to the man and fires twice, the bullets striking both his leg and his throat, the man choking on his blood before toppling over into the snow. Blood paints the pure snow as corpses lay silently along it, (Y/N) panting softly and slowly rising from cover as she looks around with wariness for any sign of others.

"One of them's making a run for it! Arthur!" Micah shouts urgently, causing the man to look to his left as a lone man begins to run from out behind the house.

Arthur wastes no time as he grasps the wooden gate, easily leaping over it with a grunt of effort. He takes off running after the man, his long strides catching up slowly but surely. The snow makes it harder to run, Arthur growling lowly with frustration as he watches the man vault over the fence outlining the property. He raises his pistol and takes careful aim before firing the three remaining bullets in his pistol, one striking the fence and the other two meeting their mark on the man's back.

The man's body jerks as he stumbles forward, face-planting into the snow and spazzing. Arthur watches the man for a few moments as he loads his pistol, the barrel whirring softly as he snaps it shut. When the man doesn't get up, he nods to himself, turning and briskly making his way back to the others.

"That's my boy, Arthur!" Dutch shouts in praise as he sees the man rejoining them. "Good shooting!" He turns to (Y/N) with a proud smile, nodding. "You too, my girl! That was fast shooting."

(Y/N) smiles faintly at the praise before her attention shifts to Arthur, the man slowing to a stop near them as his eyes meet hers. She nods to him with a meaningful look, Arthur's expression softening as he nods in return. He resumes his approach, the man holstering his pistol as he adjusts his hat.

Dutch watches as Micah pulls a corpse out of the doorway, his eyes darkening with anger. "Goddamn O'Driscoll's boys here! Why?!" he demands with hatred and fury.

Micah shakes his head as he drags the body along the ground, grunting as he tosses it aside out of their way. "I don't know— maybe same reason as us?" he suggests.

Dutch doesn't seem pleased by the answer, but knows Micah had no way of knowing the true reason either. "Micah, go bring the horses closer to the house," he calls to the man breathlessly, stomping through the snow towards the porch. "Arthur and (Y/N)— let's go search the cabin."

(Y/N) and Arthur follow Dutch as the man heads up the steps of the home, Micah turning as he begins the trek back to the horses through the snow. Arthur walks behind (Y/N) closely as she heads up the steps after Dutch, Dutch pushing the wooden door open and stepping inside as they follow.

The warm, stuffy air was a shocking contrast against the bitter cold outside, the stench of alcohol instantly hitting the three as they entered the home.

"Smells like a party in here," Arthur comments, his eyes scanning around the main room.

(Y/N) exhales sharply with disgust at the stench, her nose scrunching slightly as she rubs her gloved hands together to generate heat. "No kiddin'."

The home was impressive in size, the walls made out of thick logs and the floorboards well-maintained and wooden. A fireplace stood tall against the right hand wall, the fireplace made of different sized stones and the mantle above shaved and sanded wood with a few objects decorating it. The fire was lit as it crackled and popped, the flames flickering with the rush of wind that sweeps through from outside. A carpet was laid out in front of the fireplace, a small dining table near this covered in empty drinks and a few cans of untouched food. A bed was to the back wall on the right side, a chest at the foot of it and an end table to its right.

To the left was a kitchen space with cabinets and counters, a ladder leading up to the loft above behind the dining room table. The interior of the home was filled with wooden furniture and decorations, signs of a warm, no doubt happy life before the O'Driscolls came and butchered them no doubt. (Y/N)'s eyes scan around slowly as she searches for any sign of anyone else, the mention of another woman still replaying through her head.

"Turn the place upside down," Dutch tells the two in a gravelly voice. "Grab as many supplies as you both can. We need the essentials. Food, medicine..." he trails off for a moment, spotting an untouched bottle of whiskey on the table and snatching it up with a sparkle in his eye. "Whiskey."

Arthur sniffs softly before turning to (Y/N), his head nodding to the loft above. "I'll check up there on the loft."

"I've got the kitchen, then," she adds knowingly, her eyes shifting to the disarrayed kitchen to their left.

Arthur nods in response, the man's large frame turning as he makes his way around the right side of the dining room table. He lingers near the intense heat of the fireplace, the warmth melting the ice from his clothing and leaving behind damp patches. He lifts his hands slightly near the fire to help the heat transfer through his gloves, his eyes flicking along the mantle that reached below his chest. There were a few standard items— a clock, a few porcelain plate decorations, but also empty bottles of whiskey left from the O'Driscoll's. His eyes flick to the left when he notices a photograph framed in a round frame, the photo black and white and worn.

"Huh..." he mutters softly, reaching out to pick up the photograph. "Looks like the poor bastard outside was married too, at some point."

(Y/N) glances over from where she was crouched down, her hands resting on the opened cabinet doors as her expression softens with sympathy. "They did mention there being another woman here..." Her eyes shift around the empty space, save for Dutch near the medicine cabinet gathering some of the medicine inside. "Probably killed her, too."

Arthur turns the photo over, his eyes flicking along the writing: JAKE AND SADIE WEDDING September 7th 1896.

"If we can't eat it or drink it, put it down," Dutch calls to the man, not looking up as he works on looting the place.

Arthur simply grunts in response before setting the photograph down with a deep frown, the man sighing as he makes his way to the ladder. (Y/N) watches as the man disappears up the ladder onto the loft, her focus shifting to the cabinets as she rummages through them. Her eyes were drawn to odd coloring against the wooden floors, her expression falling at the large pool of blood, some of the dry, crimson liquid splattered on the wall as well. Her heart aches with sympathy at the thought of the couple who had lived here, their lives no doubt content and joyful until hell greeted them at their own door.

"O'Driscoll's!" Dutch growls to himself, still reeling over the revelation. "I don't believe it."

(Y/N) glances over her shoulder to the man, her hand slowly tucking a can of sweetcorn into her satchel. "Me neither." She shakes her head. "Thought they were all still out West. Though..." Her eyes flick up in thought, a thoughtful frown pulling at her lips as she tucks another can of sweetcorn into her bag. "Thinkin' on it now, I suppose we haven't seen them in a while. Maybe they're up here hiding like we are?"

"There's a big price on Colm O'Driscoll's head," Arthur chimes in agreement from the loft, peering over the edge down at Dutch with a slight shrug as he snorts. "Nearly as big as the one on yours..."

Dutch chortles bitterly, the man approaching the bedroom to the right side of the home and scooping up a blanket from the bed, bundling it up. "Wanting Colm dead is about the only thing me and Uncle Sam agree on."

(Y/N) exhales a soft laugh under her breath at this, the woman shifting her weight to face another low cabinet as she pulls the cabinet door open. Her stomach faintly growls with hunger as she grabs any undamaged, unopened cans of food she can find, her eyes lighting up when she spots a chocolate bar hidden behind an old tin of coffee. She reaches out and takes the sweet treat, smiling to herself and tucking it away carefully in a pouch of her satchel, making a mental note to give it to a certain little boy.

As she continues to loot through the cabinets, Arthur saunters along the loft, his eyes scanning along the blankets laid out on the wood— no doubt having been used by the O'Driscoll's to sleep.

"Place is dry, and warm... we could maybe move the women and Jack down here," Arthur suggests as he picks up a box of assorted biscuits, the man tucking them away into his bag.

(Y/N) looks up from the cabinet at the suggestion as she rises, uncertainty crossing her features at the prospect of splitting up.

"Maybe," Dutch hesitantly responds, though he seems to be pondering it as he opens the chest at the foot of the bed, discovering another two blankets. "We'll see how they are when we get back. I don't really want us to split up."

"Especially if there's O'Driscoll's around," (Y/N) adds with uncertainty. "Space could be big enough for everyone. I saw a barn outside that'd be nice for our horses."

Dutch's eyes flick to her as he tucks the bundled blankets under his arms. "Barn?" he repeats quietly with interest, nodding slightly to himself. "I'm going to start packing the horses," he speaks up louder as he addresses the two, his boots softly thumping on the floorboards as he makes his way to the door. "You two keep looking. Grab anything you think we can use, then meet me out here."

Arthur descends down the ladder from the loft, his boots loudly thumping on the floor as he steps off and onto the ground floor.

"Sure thing, Dutch," (Y/N) calls back to the man, watching as Dutch exits the home.

Her (E/C) eyes flick to Arthur when he joins her side, the woman noticing his exhausted features. Her expression softens with worry, her eyes shifting down as she slips her satchel open, pulling out a can of peaches she had found.

"I pretty much covered everything in here. We should eat somethin'," she quietly mentions, causing his attention to shift to her. "I'm starting to get a little shaky. I imagine you are, too. Been a while since I've seen you eat, Arthur."

"I'm—"

"Don't you say you're 'fine'," she cuts him off before he could barely get the word out, the man's lips twitching as he huffs. "We'll share."

(Y/N) steps towards the dining room table as she sets down the can, her hand sliding her hunting knife free from her belt's sheathe. She carefully stabs into the can's lead and saws it open, her eyes shifting to a rag left on the table before she uses it to wipe the peach juice off the blade, making a mental note to properly clean it off later before using it again to open anymore cans.

"Damn pushy woman," Arthur grumbles under his breath, but there was no heat to his words, an undertone of fondness seeping through despite his gruffness as he steps closer to her side.

(Y/N) titters at this, rolling her eyes with amusement as she sets her knife down. She slips one of her gloves off, her now-bare fingers then grasping the lid as she pulls the metal lid off the rest of the way. She grabs the can and tilts it to the man in offering, Arthur lifting his hand as he lightly tugs the fingers of his glove, slowly pulling it off and flexing his somewhat numb fingers out. He grasps his leather glove in one hand as he reaches for the can with his freed one, his fingers carefully curling to grasp a handful of peaches. (Y/N) watches with a small smile as he pops a peach slice into his mouth, satisfied he was eating.

She herself then grabs a few peaches and pops them into her mouth as well, the sweet juice causing her mouth to salivate as she chews on the firm, yet squishy texture of the slices of peaches. The sticky juice covers their fingers as they eat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the two taking turns grabbing slices of peaches in the can. As the peaches in the can become a couple, Arthur lifts his hand and shakes his head as she offers them to him, the man grasping the rag she had previously used while wiping his fingers clean.

(Y/N) smiles softly in thanks at his selflessness, her hand lifting the can of peaches to her lips as she tilts it back. She sips on the juice inside the can, the metallic taste of the can mixing with the sweet juice as it helps soothe her throat that had been dry from thirst. As she finishes the can of peaches, Arthur makes his way to the bed tucked near the corner, his eyes flicking over the small space as he slips his glove back on. The man hunches as he lowers to open the chest at the foot of the bed, the man discovering a couple dollars inside as he tucks the bills away. His boots softly crunch on glass of a knocked down photograph from the wall, his eyes flicking along the floor and lingering on a woman's clothing that was torn and thrown on the floor near the end table.

His jaw clenches and his eyes darken at the sight, the man growling softly under his breath as his throat burns with contained rage. Forcing his eyes away from the clothes, he aggressively yanks open the end table, the man grabbing a pack of cigarettes inside— as well as a gold, pendant necklace that catches his eye, knowing it'd be worth a nice price.

"Think we found everythin' worth taking," (Y/N) calls to Arthur as she approaches the bedroom, her eyes flicking around.

Her eyes landed on a smaller quilt Dutch hadn't grabbed on the bed, realizing he must've not noticed it when he'd scooped up the comforter that had been draped over the mattress. She reaches out and grabs hold of the soft quilt, her arms wrapping it up as she looks to Arthur.

"Yeah," he agrees roughly as he steps back, nodding. "Let's go on out."

The two head towards the front door together, (Y/N) quietly groaning as she hears the wind howling outside through the walls. "Cold's gonna be harsher now that we've gone and gotten warm," she grumbles with displeasure.

Bracing herself with a deep breath, she pushes open the door, the stinging cold instantly hitting her face and making her face tighten with uncomfortableness as she steps out into the snow first, followed by Arthur. His shoulders quiver lightly before he straightens them out, his lips parting in a soft, shaky exhale as his breath puffs into the air.

Micah stood hunched near the porch with his hands tightly clasped in front of him, Dutch standing beside Taima as he worked on strapping a blanket to the back of her saddle.

"Micah, Arthur, (Y/N)— keep looking for stuff," he tells the three, his hand tugging on a strap to tighten it over the bundled blanket. "You two, go check and see if there's anything in that barn you mentioned before." Dutch points over to the barn down the path a bit further, his attention returning to Taima as he adjusts the blanket once more. "Micah, you search the cabin. See what we missed."

"Sure," Arthur acknowledges, nodding.

Micah sighs heavily as he nods, turning and walking past (Y/N) and Arthur as he enters the homestead to go through it once more as Dutch had instructed. (Y/N) rubs at her eye with her gloved fingers as a snowflake was whipped into it from the wind, the woman grimacing and huffing softly as she begins to make her way through the snow towards the barn with Arthur in tow. She follows the already partially trudged-through path, which helped her movement speed and kept some snow off her clothing, the snow reaching just below her knees on either side of her.

Arthur adjusts his hat over his head as he follows, snow dusting along their clothing once more and some clinging to (Y/N)'s hair that whips slightly in the wind, though the breeze had calmed down significantly than it had been initially. Her ears pick up the muffled sound of distressed whinnies from inside the barn as they draw near, her head twitching to the side as she glances back at Arthur briefly.

(Y/N) steps up to the large barn doors, her hands grasping the side of the door as she grunts quietly, sliding it open. The space inside was decent and surprisingly clean, the dirt below their feet clear of snow. A lone mahogany and white Tennessee Walker with a black mane snorts and moves restlessly in its pen, its ears pinned back as it stomps its hoof aggressively against the hay inside of the pen. (Y/N) glances around briefly as she makes her way inside first, her eyes lingering on the horse.

Arthur follows in after her as he draws his pistol as a precaution, the man sighing softly with exhaustion. A man suddenly drops from the loft above and lands directly on Arthur, causing the man to yell out in surprise as he was pulled onto the ground, his pistol sliding along the ground and his hat knocked off his head. (Y/N)'s head snaps back as her eyes widen, the O'Driscoll grunting and panting sharply as he climbs over Arthur, who had been momentarily stunned on the ground. Before she could move in, Arthur was quick to kick the man off of him in a firm motion, the man flinging back and landing roughly on his backside.

"You bastards shot my cousin!" the O'Driscoll shouted furiously.

"Well, he started it!" Arthur defends with disbelief and anger, scrambling to his feet as the other man does the same.

The O'Driscoll breathes heavily with anger, stumbling slightly from being disoriented. "I'm gonna break your neck!"

(Y/N) shakes her head slightly with a soft scoff, her head tilting as she observes the man's sloppy, defensive posture. The man was a foot shorter than Arthur's towering frame and leaner as well, his fists raised readily but with signs of inexperience.

"Oh, I doubt you will, friend," she comments offhandedly and dryly, lowering to pick up Arthur's fallen hat.

Her hand dusts it off as she leans against the horse's pen, her eyes focused on the hat as she leaves the man to Arthur, knowing the man would easily hold his own. Arthur rolls his shoulder as he lifts his fists, his eyes unblinking and focused as he regards the man in front of him. He knew she'd have his back if needed, but her words of sureness and her relaxed posture gave him a boost of confidence and strength in his ability to defend himself while protecting her as well.

Arthur dodges back when the man throws a punch, Arthur retaliating by switching punching the man's side. The O'Driscoll stifles a grunt of pain, his steps quick and light as he shifts side to side while glaring at Arthur. Arthur delivers two more punches, one striking the man's stomach and the other striking his cheek when he doubles over.

"What's goin' on?" the familiar voice of Dutch questions, (Y/N) looking past the two men fighting to where he stood at the entrance of the barn.

Arthur growls softly, side stepping to dodge a punch thrown at him by the man. "This guy just jumped me!"

"Oh-ho!" Dutch chuckles wryly with amusement. "Did he now?" he muses, unconcerned as well as his dark eyes flick to (Y/N) leaned against the pen. "Ain't you gonna help Arthur?" he questions in a playful, teasing tone as he takes out a cigar from his satchel, lighting it as he leans against the doorway lazily.

(Y/N) snorts as she straightens up slightly, waving her hand nonchalantly. "Sure, sure. Just lettin' him get a few hits in— you know how tough and strong he's gotta be," she plays along, causing the man to guffaw.

"Glad you two are findin' this so amusing!" Arthur barks gravelly to the two without taking his eyes off the O'Driscoll, though the corners of his lip twitch up in a faint smile.

This seems to anger the man further due to not being taken seriously, the man shouting as he throws another punch. Arthur's hand shoots out and grips his shoulder tightly as his head dodges back to avoid the punch, his other hand balled into a fist as he punches upward into the man's stomach. Arthur's large hand grasps the man's face as he shoves him backwards, the man stumbling and flailing as he regains his balance.

The horse in the pen whinnies with aggravation, rearing slightly as his ears flatten back. (Y/N) turns to the horse with a small frown, the horse stomping his hoof against the hay roughly and pacing restlessly.

"Hey, easy... easy, it's okay," she tries to soothe the mighty animal, the horse neighing and rearing once more.

She focuses on trying to calm the horse as Arthur continues his scrap with the O'Driscoll, the man lunging at Arthur. Arthur swings his fist out, his knuckles striking the man's jaw and earning a pop. Blood splatters as the man's tooth was knocked free, Arthur then punching the man's eye with the same first in a rapid motion. The horse neighs loudly with stress as he bucks, (Y/N) wincing with a frown as she holds Arthur's hat close to her chest while shushing him softly, the fight currently taking place and the previous gunfight no doubt having stressed the animal to the max.

The O'Driscoll staggers dizzily as he shakes his head out, barely managing to recover when Arthur begins to rain ruthless punches into him. Each blow from Arthur was devastating and strong, splatters of the man's blood painting the ground. In just a few, short seconds, the O'Driscoll was overwhelmed by the brutality of each strike, Arthur's hand darting out to grip his throat. He growls loudly with effort as he turns and throws the man down onto the ground in the center of the space, the man frantically scooting back on his backside with his arm raised in front of him defensively.

"Sneaky little bastard!" Arthur rasps with annoyance as he straightens up, his eyes shifting to Dutch as he pants softly. "Should I kill him?"

(Y/N) strolls over to the left and lowers down, scooping up Arthur's silver pistol before making her way over. Her eyes linger on the clearly terrified man, his face beaten and bruised and swelling, the woman then handing Arthur's pistol over as he takes it gingerly. He then accepts his hat with a grateful nod, his hand lifting to set it back in its proper place on his head.

"No..." Dutch answers with reluctance and resignation, heavily sighing as he flicks some ash from the tip of his cigar while exhaling a string of smoke. "Not yet. Find out what they're doing here, and where Colm is."

Arthur holsters his pistol before stepping forward, looming over the frightened man with a dark glare. "Oh, this son of a bitch'll talk..." he growls deeply in a dark promise.

The O'Driscoll's face pales, though most of it was beaten dark red and blue with bruising, his eyes widening as Arthur lowers slightly. Arthur's hand reaches out and aggressively grabs hold of the man's slender neck, his fingers easily curling around it in a tight hold. He chokes out a ragged gasp, one of his hands gripping Arthur's wrist weakly as his other hand hovers in the air while trembling.

Arthur's fist raises before he feigns a punch, the man whimpering and flinching back as the punch is pulled back. "Where's Colm O'Driscoll?" he demands roughly.

(Y/N)'s arms fold over her chest as she leans against the pen of the horse once more while watching the interrogation, the horse still agitated, but calmer now that the chaos had settled. The animal snorts and huffs softly as he paces in his pen, his tail flicking and his dark eyes searching around the room a bit restlessly.

The O'Driscoll grunts weakly before Arthur loosens his hold on his neck, the man panting sharply as he grimaces in pain.

"With the others..." he rasps out, grimacing once more. "At an old mining camp southwest of here, near the lake!"

Dutch listens to the information intently as he smokes his cigar, his forearm lifting up and resting against the doorway of the barn door as he leans his weight partially on one leg.

"What are y'all up to in these mountains?" (Y/N) questions from where she leaned against the pen, her eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded the man on the ground impassively. "Surprised your group's even this far east."

The man hesitates to answer her question as he side-eyes her from the corner of his eye, this causing a flare of anger to fill Arthur. His fist strikes down and collides with the O'Driscoll's jaw, causing him to cry out a wheeze of agony.

"The lady asked you a question, partner," he grits out sternly, his voice a low, rough rumble as he gives the man's throat an aggressive shake.

The O'Driscoll breathed raggedly, his teeth clenching together in pain. "We're— We're fixin' to rob some train! Gonna blow the tracks. I don't know more than that, I swear!" he insists desperately, his eyes squinted as he looks up at Arthur helplessly.

Dutch's brow lifts at this, the corner of his lip curving up into a smirk. (Y/N)'s expression hardens slightly, Arthur's eyes shifting to Dutch as the man begins to chuckle deeply in his throat.

"Well, I would say you two have this," Dutch declares confidently, still smirking with a newfound sparkle in his eye. "Do what you want with him. I don't care." He deeply inhales his cigar before exhaling the smoke, gesturing to the horse behind (Y/N) with it. "But bring that horse when you're done."

With that, Dutch turns as he stuffs his hand into the pocket of his coat, his other hand still holding his cigar as he makes his way through the snow back towards the house.

"I don't know anything else!" the man begs, his breathing rapid and uneven. "Please!" he whimpers pathetically, beginning to sob. "Please, spare me! I promise, you— you won't see me again, partner! Please, partner!"

Arthur's jaw clenches as he stares down at the blubbering man, his fist tightening and hovering in the air. The horse neighs loudly as (Y/N) turns her head to observe the animal, her lips pursing in a small frown at his agitated state. Arthur's eyes flick to the woman as she begins to murmur gentle sweet-nothings to the horse, a deep, stifled sigh leaving him. His gaze returns to the sobbing, snotty man, an annoyed, exasperated grunt leaving him as he shoves the man roughly down by the neck before releasing him.

"Get the hell outta here," he gruffly orders. "Go!"

(Y/N) looks over with a hint of mild surprise and interest at this, the man not wasting any time as he scrambles to his feet. The O'Driscoll sobs as he staggers and stumbles, the man taking off out of the barn without looking back as he runs through the snow. Arthur huffs with a nod before shaking his hands out, his knuckles aching slightly from the one-sided fist fight as he turns to (Y/N).

His eyes flick to the agitated horse behind her. "No luck calmin' it?" he questions roughly, his tone not unkind.

"He was too stressed out 'cause of the fight," (Y/N) replies as she tilts her head towards the horse. "You try it. You'd probably have a bit more luck than me. You always were better with wilder horses."

Arthur nods. "Okay."

He steps forward slowly and lightly, the horse's nostrils flaring as he snorts loudly before whinnying softly.

"Whoa!" Arthur gruffly chuckles, his hands partially lifting. "It's okay," he reassures in a soothing tone, continuing his approach. "Easy, easy."

(Y/N) slowly and carefully steps out of the way of the gate as Arthur approaches, the man continuing to murmur reassurances to the stressed animal. He reaches out and slowly grasps the gate, the horse snorting and shifting anxiously as his ears flick. However, he slowly calms with Arthur's gentle tone as the man steps closer, the horse's breathing loud and heavy as his nostrils flare once more. His ears slowly begin to lift once more as Arthur's hand brushes against his thick neck, Arthur slowly and lightly stroking the dark fur.

"It's alright, boy," Arthur soothes, patting the horse's neck as the horse nickers quietly.

(Y/N) smiles softly as she watches Arthur, the man grasping the reins of the horse and pulling them over his ears before leading the horse out of the pen. (Y/N) looks over the Tennessee Walker, her smile softening into a small frown as her heart clenches, the pain of losing her previous horse still raw and fresh. She clears her throat as she looks down, blinking rapidly while swallowing the lump in her throat before lifting her head once more.

"You should take him. Least for now," she tells Arthur, nodding to the horse. "You could probably get a decent price for him. Looks strong and healthy, and he seems to like you."

Arthur's eyes linger on her expression, the man knowing that she was no doubt still feeling the loss of her beloved horse, just as he was his own. Clearing his throat, he nods slowly, his eyes shifting to roam over the horse appreciatively.

"Yeah, I suppose so," he agrees as he leads the horse towards the opened barn door. "He's a little short for me, but he'll do good for now."

(Y/N) nods in agreement as she walks alongside Arthur, the horse on his other side and lifting his legs up high as he moves through the snow. Arthur grips the rein in a firm hold, though he grants it some slack to allow the horse's head movement, (Y/N) shivering and hunching her shoulders a bit as the wind sweeps through their forms.

"You let him go, huh?" Dutch yells loudly to the two from where he stood near The Count and Taima. "Saw the little bastard scurrying off."

"Yeah!" Arthur gruffly calls back. "Figured he won't get far in this anyway."

Dutch shrugs with a slight nod of his head. "Go ahead and hitch him! He's already skittish." He motions to the hitching post near the wooden structure.

(Y/N) glances at Arthur briefly as the man heads towards the hitching post, (Y/N) sighing deeply as she begins to trudge through the snow towards Taima. Taima softly neighs as her head turns to the woman, her head ducking and lifting in a head bob for a moment before she snorts and shakes her head out. (Y/N) quietly chuckles at this, but it was abruptly silenced by the sudden sound of rapid thumping and a woman's screaming from inside the home.

"Get away from me!" the voice of a woman screeches, followed by a string of terrified screaming.

(Y/N)'s eyes snap up instantly and she was darting up the porch steps before she herself even realized, Dutch's head snapping at the commotion as he rushes after her, the door swinging behind him. Arthur fumbles with the reins of the horse as he urgently loops it around the post, the man then running towards the porch.

"Hey! Hey, easy!" (Y/N) shouts with alarm and concern as Arthur bursts through the door, the man panting heavily as his eyes dart around the scene.

"Micah!" Dutch snarls, standing beside (Y/N) with wide eyes. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

A woman trembles violently as she dodges away from Micah, the man howling with laughter. She looks around with wild, honey brown eyes, her dirty blond hair messy and reaching past her shoulders and curling slightly. Her skin was pale and she had a scar along her dark eyebrow, her face littered with freckles. She wore a nightgown, the gown covering her slender figure, her posture defensive and alert.

"Look what I found in the cellar!" Micah boasts with amusement, motioning to the woman as he steps closer to her.

The woman instantly darts back and circles around the table, shrieking as she begins to throw the empty bottles of whiskey at the man.

"Wild thing, ain't ya!" The man cackles heartily, attempting to circle around the table as she follows his movement, keeping the table between them.

"Leave her alone!" Dutch orders sternly.

The man doesn't listen, Dutch's posture uncertain from the unexpected appearance of the woman as he looks from her to Micah hastily. Arthur stands in disbelief at the scene with wide eyes, blinking rapidly with his mouth slightly agape. (Y/N)'s eyes were wide as well, her chest tightening with growing anger as her gaze snapped to Micah tormenting the woman.

"I wasn't doing nothing!" Micah defends as he glances briefly at Dutch before he dodges another glass bottle thrown his way. "She's one of them O'Driscolls!"

"No, she ain't, Micah!" Dutch barks firmly, gesturing to the clearly terrified, wide-eyed woman. "Look at her!"

He turns to look at the woman, who was still screaming and wielding a steak knife that had been left on the table.

"Miss, miss—!" Dutch starts.

(Y/N) jumps into action when Micah attempts to round the table near her, growling as she stomps forward. "Micah, get the hell away from her!" she shouts, snatching the man by the shoulder as he tries to round the table.

He's caught off guard by this, (Y/N) grunting as she roughly shoves him by the shoulder back towards Dutch. Micah staggers before catching himself as his hand clamps down onto his head, his eyes darkening as he turns his attention to the woman. (Y/N) stares him down with a glare of her own as she slowly rounds the table near the woman, her shoulder rolling and her eyes unblinking. The blonde woman's hand trembles violently as she grips the knife's handle tightly, her gaze wild and pupils shrunk with shell-shock as her eyes snap to (Y/N) warily. She seems less afraid of (Y/N) than the three other men, her grip like iron around the knife handle as her gaze flicks rapidly from (Y/N) to Micah.

"Don't ever lay a hand on me again, girlie," Micah lowly threatens, stepping towards the head of the table. "Or—"

"Or what?" (Y/N) demands as she tilts her head, scoffing softly through her teeth as her hand lowers and hovers near her pistol. "Go on. Finish that sentence. I beg you."

She nods her head slightly, her eyes shifting to where Arthur stood at the doorway. Arthur's hat casted a shadow along his forehead that went to his eyes, his gaze locked onto Micah's backside and his own hand hovering near his pistol, his fingers flexed. The woman beside (Y/N) pants sharply and rapidly as she wields the knife, her eyes snapping forward when Micah suddenly steps forward. (Y/N)'s hand instantly grips her pistol's grip, but before she could draw it, Micah was knocking the table onto its side, the woman beside her shrieking fearfully and recoiling back.

Arthur lunges forward and snatches Micah's shoulder roughly as (Y/N) had done before, yanking the man back as the lantern that had been on the table shatters. The flame inside sparks as it mixes from the alcohol that lingered in the now-shattered bottles, and the wood instantly catches on fire, Micah laughing and stepping back with his hands partially raised.

Dutch's eyes widened, the man snapped out of his frozen state. "Oh, you fool, Micah!" he scolds, stepping forward and shoving Micah aside as the man continues to smirk widely.

"Come on, you can't stay here, miss," (Y/N) softly and urgently tells the paralyzed woman, her hand hesitantly lifting out

The woman flinches away from her hand with wide eyes, looking much like a cornered animal that had been abused— which she no doubt was by the monsters that had stolen her husband and home from her.

"Miss! Now— it is gonna be okay," Dutch gently reassures as he approaches slowly, his hands lifted in a placating manner in front of him.

Arthur hesitantly follows after shooting a dangerous look at Micah, who simply shrugs with a snort in response as he lifts his hands defensively. (Y/N) turns to look at the woman with a softened frown, the woman's blond hair falling into her face and her legs shaking beneath her, a pair of dark boots on her feet.

"We ain't gonna hurt you," (Y/N) soothes, her eyes darting to the growing fire near them urgently before returning to the woman. "That man over there's an idiot," she hisses as she glares towards Micah, returning her eyes to the woman once more. "But we won't hurt you."

The woman breathes raggedly as her eyes flick to (Y/N), her eyes full of pain, fear, and uncertainty as she regards her. Her teeth bare slightly as her shoulders rise and fall with her panting, her slender arms covered in dark bruising.

Dutch nods in agreement while slowly shuffling forward, his expression earnest and full of concern. "Honest, we mean you no harm," he insists, slowly reaching towards her.

Her eyes snap to Dutch as she jerks the knife towards him, Dutch's hand gently but firmly gripping her own and lowering the knife down.

"Miss!" he urges, his tone still soft. "Miss," he repeats soothingly, his other hand delicately resting on her right shoulder.

She blinks rapidly as she stares at the man while panting, under her eyes dark with bags and her cheeks stained with tears and old makeup. She doesn't protest as Dutch lowers the knife away completely, her eyes snapping around wildly as he begins to gently guide her away from the growing fire.

"Come on," Dutch gently speaks. "It'll be okay."

Dutch looks at (Y/N) with a nod of his head for her to quickly follow, noticing the fire was rapidly growing out of control. His hand shifts from the woman's shoulder to instead rest between her shoulder blades, his eyes flicking to Arthur.

"We need to get out of here, and quick," he orders sternly, continuing to lead the woman out. "Come on, now."

Dutch snatches up a blanket that had been left behind, quickly wrapping it around the woman's shoulders as he helps her outside. (Y/N) steps around the fallen table as she follows, her gaze lingering on the flames as she scowls. Her blood boils with anger, but she reins it in, her head shaking as she exhales sharply. She makes her way out with Arthur, her hand carefully and gently extending towards the woman on her other side. The woman trembles and hesitates before slowly grasping her hand, allowing both her and Dutch to help her down the porch steps as her legs quiver.

Her eyes are icy as she regards Micah standing a bit away in the snow, Arthur scowling at the man as well as he follows closely behind. Micah simply snorts and rolls his eyes with derisiveness, shrugging a shoulder as he turns and mounts Baylock. (Y/N) shakes her head before slowly releasing the woman's hand once her boots touch the snow, though she remained close, just in case she stumbled.

"Are you alright?" (Y/N) questions the woman softly with worry, tilting her head slightly as she observes the side of her face.

"They... came three... days ago," the woman raspily responds, her voice hoarse from screaming and trembling from the cold. "And my husband..." Her voice breaks. "They..."

She couldn't continue, the woman beginning to sob softly. Tears roll down her flushed cheeks as she hugs the blanket around her, Dutch's arm tenderly wrapped around her shoulders offer the woman what little comfort he could. (Y/N) grimaces and her heart aches for the woman's suffering, Arthur frowning deeply as he rubs his arms while following the three through the snow. Dutch's expression darkens grimly with understanding, his jaw tightening.

"Okay, miss," he quietly replies, nodding his head as he guides her towards the horses. "You are... safe now." He looks back towards the house, his lips thinning at the sight of the flames beginning to swallow the home. "And you can't stay here."

(Y/N) and the woman look back as well, along with Arthur, the woman's face falling with horror at the sight as she weakly whimpers.

"You come with us," Dutch continues with decisiveness, nodding as the woman looks to him with a mixture of surprise and apprehension. "(Y/N)."

(Y/N) understands his unspoken words with a nod, stepping closer and delicately wrapping her arm partially around her shoulders as she was passed off from Dutch. Dutch walks ahead quickly, the man unlatching the bundled supplies off Taima to provide room for the woman on the back of the horse. He then carries it over to the Tennessee Walker, quickly strapping the supplies onto him instead.

"Come on, I got'cha," (Y/N) reassures in a whisper with a nod, guiding the woman towards where Taima stood waiting.

Arthur takes the lantern from Dutch, following alongside the women as he maintains a respectful distance from the frightened woman.

"Miss..." he gruffly starts, clearing his throat with a wince before softening his tone, "It's okay, alright?"

The woman's eyes shift to Arthur warily as she leans into (Y/N), her eyebrows furrowed and her expression distraught.

"We're bad men and women, but..." Arthur shakes his head. "We ain't them, so..." He grimaces, realizing his attempts at comforting were possibly falling flat. "It— It's okay," he finally says once more.

(Y/N) nods along in agreement as she approaches Taima, slowly and carefully releasing the woman for a brief moment. She faces Taima before pulling herself up onto the saddle, her leg swinging over it as she grabs the reins and nods down to Arthur. Arthur takes the cue as he passes (Y/N) the lantern, the man then facing the frightened woman as he steps closer.

The woman tenses— but she doesn't protest— as he carefully wraps his arms around her, lifting her up onto the back of Taima side-saddle with ease.

"Get on," Arthur grumbles, mostly to himself, the man setting her down carefully. "We'll keep you safe until you figure out what you wanna do."

"Exactly," (Y/N) agrees with the man, nodding while adjusting her grip on the lantern as the woman settles behind her. "You don't have to worry about nothin' with us, okay?" she reassures. "Name's (Y/N)."

The woman breathes heavily and shakily, and doesn't reply, though she does nod slightly. Her legs were draped along the side of the horse, her hands gently gripping the back of (Y/N)'s coat as (Y/N) gently nudged the horse's sides with her heels, urging her into a walk. Arthur makes his way over to the Tennessee Walker, the man grunting as he pulls himself up after unhitching him. He's mindful of the supplies bundled on the rear of the horse, the man guiding the new horse along through the snow.

"What's your name, miss?" Dutch questions the woman as he guides The Count to trot alongside Taima. He frowns when she remains silent, thinking she may not have heard him. "Miss?"

"Adler," the woman replies shakily and softly.

(Y/N)'s eyes flick back briefly, but she doesn't question the name. Her gaze shifts to Arthur, the man guiding the Tennessee Walker to trot on the other side of Taima, Micah trailing after them on Baylock.

"Adler?" Dutch repeats.

"Sadie Adler," Sadie introduces herself shakily, swallowing thickly. "Mrs," she adds, grimacing as her heart aches. "I... he..."

(Y/N)'s form tenses as she feels Sadie's forehead press lightly against her back, the woman trembling behind her as her grip tightens on her coat.

"He was my husband," she whimpers in a brokenhearted voice, her shoulders hitching as she begins to quietly cry.

The homestead behind the group continues to burn to the ground, the flames roaring and growing with each passing second until they were nearly as tall as the pine trees surrounding the land. The tarp covering the body of Jake Adler in the wagon flutters with the wind, the wooden cover of the porch crackling before collapsing, embers flurrying into the air.

...

    The four horses make their way through the snow, the storm continuing to rage around them as their lanterns light the small area around them. They arrive back at Colter, their horses trotting slowly through the thick, fresh snow as Dutch leads them, followed by (Y/N) on Taima with Sadie, Arthur on the Tennessee Walker, and Micah on Baylock. Dutch turns onto the path leading into the mining down, The Count neighing softly as his slender legs lift high in the snow.

    "Hey!" the familiar voice of Lenny shouts in warning to the others, the 19-year-old boy standing guard. "Somebody's coming!"

The boy was the youngest of those in the gang, his skin umber brown and his jaw stubbled with dark hair. His raven black hair was neat and short beneath his hat, a cream and copper patterned scarf wrapped around his neck. He wore a navy blue coat made of wool, a rifle held in his mittened hands. He cocks the rifle and lifts it as he takes aim, his dark brown eyes narrowed before he perks up with relief at the sight of Dutch leading the others into the mining town.

"Looks like it's Dutch!" he greets with a chuckling exhale. "Hey, everybody! Dutch is back!"

Dutch lifts the lantern he was carrying partially, the others beginning to filter out of the building they had been holed up in to greet the returning party. Hosea was the first one out, the man's expression tired but full of relief.

"How'd you get on?" Hosea questions them worriedly, approaching with the others as he hugs himself.

"Micah found a homestead, but..." Dutch trails off for a moment, shaking his head as they guide their horses along the path. "He weren't the first. Colm O'Driscoll and his scum... they beat us to it. We found some of them there, but... there is more about apparently."

"And Bell burned the home to the ground, so... we can't use it," (Y/N) adds bluntly and dryly, her eyes darkened as she glared towards said man.

Arthur snorts softly as he nods, the horse he was riding nickering quietly as he shifts his weight in the snow.

Micah scoffs derisively as he guides Baylock away. "Oh, give it a rest already!" he hollers over his shoulder.

Hosea's forehead wrinkles at this as he frowns, his eyes following Micah and narrowing before he shakes his head. His gaze then lands on the woman shivering on the back of Taima, her eyes wide as she looks at the group apprehensively, her hand gripping (Y/N)'s coat still. Hosea's features soften as he approaches, his hand lifting as he takes the lantern from (Y/N) carefully before offering his other arm to Sadie. Sadie hesitates before taking it, allowing him to help her slowly slide off the horse and onto her feet.

"They're scouting a train," Dutch continues, dismounting The Count and nodding to Charles in thanks as he grabs the reins for him. "Thank you."

Mary-Beth approaches quickly with a worried frown, the woman followed by the others as they flock to Sadie. Sadie tenses with wide, uncertain eyes as she regards the women, (Y/N) sighing softly as she dismounts Taima. Charles steps closer as she passes him the reins, the man quietly grunting in thanks as he guides the horses out of the way of the group surrounding those who returned warmly in welcome.

"That's the last thing we need right now, Dutch," Hosea worries with a frown.

Dutch shrugs slightly, panting softly from the cold. "Well, it is what it is..." He shakes his head. "But we found... some supplies, some blankets. A little bit of food."

His expression softens as he looks at Sadie, the woman huddled near where (Y/N) stood as she clutches the blanket around her tightly. "And this poor soul, Mrs. Adler."

"You guys got her?" (Y/N) softly whispers to Mary-Beth, tilting her head towards Sadie.

"Course, (Y/N)," Mary-Beth replies with confidence and assurance, nodding her head as she offers Sadie a kind smile.

(Y/N) gently nudges Sadie's back with her hand to follow Mary-Beth, Sadie breathing heavily and shivering as she tightly grips the blanket to her chest while shuffling forward. Karen steps forward with Tilly as they greet Sadie kindly with encouragement, Sadie's eyes wide and wary as she regards them.

"Mrs. Adler, it's gonna be okay!" Dutch calls to the woman reassuringly. "You're safe now."

Susan steps closer to watch over the women as a young, lovely and fair-skinned woman pushes through the others, her curly red hair wrapped in a deep maroon shawl. A dark green scarf was wrapped around her neck, a navy blue long coat covering her figure and arms, a belt wound around her middle and her skirt trailing in the snow. Her eyes were emerald green and her cheeks rosy, her face covered in a galaxy of freckles and her lips a deep shade of red. Molly looks up at Dutch with worry as her long lashes flutter, her hand holding a lantern.

"They turned her into a widow," Dutch quietly mumbles as he watches the other women guide Sadie inside. "Animals."

Molly frowns deeply at this as her eyes flick to Sadie, her gaze returning to Dutch when she notices him stumble slightly.

"I need some rest," Dutch gruffly states, shaking his head out as his eyes squeeze shut. "I haven't slept in three days."

Susan holds a lantern herself as she approaches, nodding her head while entering mother-hen mode. "You're over here," she softly tells the exhausted man. "Miss O'Shea will show you the way."

Molly nods in agreement with this, the woman stepping closer to Dutch. She lovingly takes his arm in her own, Dutch's features softening at this as his hand lowers to hold hers. He follows her away from the others, Micah sauntering over to rejoin the group.

"Mr. Morgan, Miss (L/N)," Susan continues, gaining their attention as (Y/N) straightens up. "There— There weren't enough rooms for the both of you, so I figured that Mr. Morgan could take it and Miss (L/N) might stay with the other women—"

"She can stay with me in the room," Arthur cuts the woman off, waving his hand up dismissively before rolling his shoulder with an exhausted sigh. "I don't mind." He tips his hat slightly, nodding. "Thank you, Miss Grimshaw."

(Y/N) looks at Arthur with a hint of surprise at his declaration of her staying with him, but she doesn't argue, the thought of having to bunk with the others in one space not exactly appealing.

She clears her throat, nodding to Susan as well. "Thank you, Miss Grimshaw."

Susan softly smiles at this, the older woman sighing quietly before turning her attention to Micah. "Mr. Bell, you're with the fellers over there."

She turns as she starts to lead Arthur and (Y/N) through the snow, Micah sputtering with wide eyes and huffing.

"Wha—?! How come Arthur and (Y/N) get their own room and I get a bunk bed next to Bill Williamson..." he starts to complain, Susan pausing in her tracks and turning to him with a sharp glare. "And a bunch of darkies?"

(Y/N)'s head whips at the insult, Arthur's eyes narrowing as he slowly turns to face the whining man with an irritated scowl.

"Bell, all you been doin' lately is complaining," (Y/N) grits out through her teeth, her eye twitching as she shakes her head. "Quit your belly-aching already!"

She throws up her hand in exasperated irritation, as if she were swatting away a fly, the woman turning to face forward once more as she stomps through the snow. Susan snorts quietly in agreement as she resumes leading them, Arthur nodding his head firmly while following alongside (Y/N).

"Belly-achin'?!" Micah repeats with anger and disbelief. "Why, I oughta—"

"Get yourself to bed!" the sharp, stern voice of Hosea snaps, cutting the man off. "Now!"

(Y/N) wasn't able to resist smirking to herself at the scolding Micah received from Hosea, her and Arthur following Susan into a building a small way's away from the others. (Y/N) follows Susan inside as she shivers and rubs her arms rapidly, Arthur rubbing his hands together and entering after her before kicking the door shut behind them.

...

    Arthur paces restlessly from the cold in the small, shared room as he continues to rub his hands together, his gloves on the end table beside the small, twin sized bed that (Y/N) sat on. There was a ruffled, thin and worn carpet on the wooden floor, a long dresser pushed against the right wall and another end table beside it. There were two windows in the room, one on the right hand wall and the other across the doorway, moth-eaten curtains draped over the frosted glass, the area outside nearly pitch black.

(Y/N) shivers as she hugs herself while shifting to slowly lay down in the bed, her ungloved hands gently pulling the blanket upward to cover herself.

"Hey, got any whiskey?" (Y/N) questions the man as she looks over, causing him to pause his pacing with a confused frown. "Cause we could start our own fire in here like Micah, if so," she jokes with a quiet snort, shakily smiling as she resists the strong urge to chatter her teeth.

Arthur gives her an unamused, unimpressed look, though the corner of his lips twitch upward. He shakes his head as he looks away, his boots quietly thumping as he resumes his pacing.

"Don't think the others would appreciate it," he drawls dryly, lifting his clasped hands together and softly blowing hot air into them.

His blue eyes flick up slightly when he notices (Y/N)'s form still trembling, her expression tightened and her brows furrowed. Her eyes were shut as she no doubt tried to sleep after days of not getting any, same as him, the man frowning as his gaze shifted to the side, his jaw tightening.

(Y/N)'s eyes open with confusion when she feels something being draped over her, her lips parting with the beginning of a protest when she realizes he had shrugged off his coat and had draped it over her form.

"Go to sleep," the man gruffly says before she could get a word out, his tone holding no room for argument and a hint of exhaustion.

(Y/N)'s lips press together as her eyebrow quirks, a soft laugh leaving her. "Damn pushy man," she comments quietly, imitating his words from earlier in the homestead.

Arthur shakes his head slightly as he allows himself to smile, the man approaching the dresser and sliding off the thin blanket that had been given to them by Susan.

"That's right," he agrees proudly and unapologetically with humor.

He makes his way back towards the bed, the man rolling his shoulder before rolling his neck out with a quiet groan. Arthur slowly lowers to sit on the floorboards beside the bed, his back leaning against the wall gap between the end table to his left and the bed now to his right. His long legs stretch out in front of him as his arms fold over his broad chest, his chest expanding as he breathes in and out deeply. Some tension leaves his shoulders, one of his hands reaching up to tilt the brim of his hat over his eyes before lowering back down to where it once was.

Arthur begins to drift off almost instantly from pure exhaustion as the adrenaline from the last few days begins to fade, his chest rising and falling slowly with his breaths and quiet snores. (Y/N) watches him for a few moments as she gets comfortable, her hand gently clutching the familiar fabric of his coat, the man having let her wear it often in the past when she needed it. Shaking her head fondly to herself, she rolls onto her side to face him, her eyes studying his features with a soft look reserved only for him. Soon, her eyes slip shut, her breathing quiet and lips parted slightly as she falls into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

The storm continues throughout the night and into the next day, the sun blocked out by gray clouds above as swirling masses of snowflakes fall. Dust clouds of snow being kicked up by the stinging wind obscure the visuality of the area, icicle shards hanging off the outline of the roof and the wood of the building caked in snow.

Arthur wakes up with a start, the man snorting softly as his head dips before he lifts it once more with a grimace. The man sniffles and coughs lightly from his dry throat as his eyes blink open hazily, his eyebrows furrowed as his form shifts. A wince crosses his features as he rolls his neck, his large hand reaching up to adjust his hat over his head as he glances around the room. Pale sunlight shines through the frosted windows, the room’s temperature icy, though it was better than being outside the building.

He immediately notices his form was covered by his coat along with the blanket (Y/N) had been using the night prior, the blanket tucked thoughtfully below his chin. His eyes snap to the bed, (Y/N) nowhere to be found and the mattress a bit ruffled from her sleeping there through the night. A grunt leaves the man as he swiftly rises to his feet, realizing that she must’ve let him sleep in with both annoyance and another emotion he didn’t want to ponder on too much at the moment. Sliding his coat on, he buttons it up securely and shivers at the cold chill in the air, the man then slipping his gun belt on and satchel before heading out.

Stepping out of the lodge, the man winces and exhales sharply at the shock of icy wind that hits him, his breath puffing into the air as he shuts the door behind him. Arthur breathes heavily as he trudges his way through the fresh layer of snow covering the pathway, the snow reaching just below his knees as he makes his way to the Church— both to check on the others residing inside, and in search of (Y/N).

-

“He ain’t been seen in days…” Abigail worries as she grips the front of her shawl tightly, the woman sighing shakily as she looks down at her lap. “The weather ain’t let up. I know that she’s gone to look for him, but…”

Tilly’s expression softens with sympathy. “He’s strong and he’s smart. And she’ll find him.”

Arthur pushes the door open to the building, letting in a strong gust of icy wind as he swiftly shuts it. Some of those inside huddled up look over at the man’s entrance before returning to their conversations, Jack sitting criss-crossed by his mother as he munches happily on a chocolate bar with a delighted expression— the chocolate no doubt the one (Y/N) had stashed away for him.

Abigail chortles humorlessly, shaking her head. “Strong at least. And… I know you’re right, but…”

Her eyes flick to Arthur and light up as he approaches while rubbing his gloved hands together rapidly, the man’s shoulders trembling briefly as his blue gaze sweeps the room. Arthur’s brow furrows when he doesn’t find (Y/N), though he chalks it up to her tending the horses— something she always was fond of doing. He approaches the fireplace where Abigail and Tilly sat, Mary-Beth hovering near them with her hands outstretched, her palms hovering near the fire.

“Hello, Arthur,” Abigail greets as she watches the man grab a log, feeding it into the fire to help it spark once more.

“Abigail,” he gruffly replies, holding his hands out towards the slowly growing fire as the flames envelope the log he’d just tossed in.

Abigail swallows thickly, her eyes briefly flicking to Tilly before she rises, stepping closer to the man. “Arthur… how you doing?” she tentatively questions.

Arthur’s head turns to her, his gaze lingering on her as he doesn’t reply for a few moments. His eyes narrow as he senses an unspoken favor, the man shifting his weight on his feet as he fully turns to face her with a slight frown.

“Just fine, Abigail…” he slowly replies in an apprehensive, suspicious tone, not trusting her innocent facade. “And you?”

Abigail hesitates, the woman averting her gaze as she seems to summon the courage to speak.

“I need you to…”

She could hardly get the words out before Arthur was letting out a scoff of disbelief and annoyance through his teeth while looking away, Abigail’s eyes fluttering as she looked up at the man.

“I— I’m sorry. I’m sorry to ask, but…” she stammers softly, her voice wavering with emotions she was trying to keep at bay.

“It’s little John,” Arthur sneers, shaking his head as he turns his head to her once more. “He’s got himself caught into a scrape again…” he continues in a mocking tone.

Abigail’s button nose scrunches with anger at his dismissiveness, her eyes darkening. “He ain’t been seen in two—!” She cuts herself off, sharply breathing through her nose to calm herself as her expression softens once more. “Two days,” she finishes calmly and shakily.

Arthur’s boot softly thumps on the floor as he adjusts his footing, his body turned towards her.

“Your John’ll be fine,” he dismisses, lifting his hands at his sides in a brief, casual gesture. “I mean… he may be as dumb as rocks and as dull as rusted iron—”

Abigail scowls and rolls her eyes lightly as she looks away, Arthur continuing.

“— but that ain’t changing because he got caught in some snowstorm!” he finishes, gesturing outside with a lift of his arm.

Huffing with a firm nod, he turns away from the woman’s plight as he shifts closer to the fireplace with an irritated scowl. Abigail’s face scrunches up with growing desperation and frustration at his lack of willingness to help, the woman sharply inhaling as she opens her mouth to protest.

“(Y/N) went looking for him,” the soft, bell-like voice of Mary-Beth suddenly chimes in, cutting Abigail off before she gets the chance to speak.

This gains Arthur’s attention.

His head whips around towards Mary-Beth, his eyes narrowing as he regards the woman sitting near the fireplace. Her legs were tucked to her side in a lady-like manner, her long skirt draped over her legs properly.

“What?” he demands lowly.

Mary-Beth blinks innocently up at the man, the woman having to fight off the urge to grin as she instead adjusts her shawl with her hand.

“Been a while…” she drawls softly with a hint of worry as her jade green eyes shift to Abigail meaningfully, her head tilting towards Arthur subtly.

Abigail’s brows furrow before lifting with realization, the woman realizing she’s to play off this.

“Yeah… I’m… I’m real worried about her, too,” Abigail agrees with a nod, the sentiment true despite the fact she was using it to her advantage. “Left maybe… half hour ago.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches so hard it nearly cracks, the man’s eye twitching slightly. Hosea, who’d been sitting nearby bundled up in his coat and reading a book, looks up, his brow furrowing at what he had overheard.

“The hell was she thinkin’?” he hisses sharply through clenched teeth under his breath, his shoulders squared and tensed.

Abigail brightens up as Arthur turns and makes a move towards the door, relief flooding her features as the corners of her lips curve up in a smile.

“If you’re going to head out to look for them, you should bring someone with you,” Hosea calls, halting the man.

Arthur glances back over his shoulder with a hint of irritation at being stopped, Abigail looking back at Hosea as well as she nods in agreement with his words.

“Javier?”

Javier, a Hispanic, average-heighted man with a lean build, looks over with chocolate brown, almond shaped eyes from where he was sitting, a lit cigarette held loosely between his fingers. He had a well-groomed appearance, his dark, coffee brown hair pulled back in a neat, short ponytail underneath the bowler hat he wore, some of his hair framing his slender face. His skin was a warm shade of copper brown, his eyebrows thick and dark with a scar along his right eyebrow that was quirked up slightly.

His thin, upper lip was bald, though two halves of a moustache lined along his laugh lines, a soul patch beneath his lower lip. The man wore a poncho to fight off the cold that had beautiful patterns in the material, the fabric a mix of rose red and cream colored patterns, a dark, aegon blue jacket worn underneath the poncho.

“Yes?” he calls back after exhaling smoke, his voice smooth and laced with a hint of exhaustion.

“Javier, will you ride out with Arthur to take a look for John and (Y/N)?” Hosea questions as he watches Javier, a light dusting of snow clinging to the hispanic man, as he had just been on guard duty.

Before Javier could reply, Arthur’s voice gruffly interrupts.

“Just (Y/N),” he states firmly.

Abigail’s head turns to Arthur as she frowns, Hosea letting out a soft, exasperated sigh through his nose.

“Oh, come now,” he urges in a firm, somewhat amused tone. “You’re the two best fit men we’ve got. And if you can find John, you’ll find her, too.”

Arthur’s expression sours further as he scoffs and looks at Javier with disbelief, Javier observing Arthur for a few moments before returning his gaze to Hosea.

“Now?” Javier questions, his features weary as he lowers his cigarette.

Hosea frowns at his hesitance, the man motioning towards the distraught Abigail to appeal to the man’s honor. “She’s… we’re all…” he trails off for a moment, his tone lighthearted and charming to sway the men. “We’re pretty worried about him. (Y/N) was, too. Was why she headed out as soon as she was able.” He pauses, his head turning slightly. “Don’t tell me she’s got more integrity than the both of you?”

“She does,” Arthur flatly replies, seeming to be unimpressed by Hosea’s attempts to sway him.

Javier, however, deeply sighs as he rises, the man rolling his shoulder as he drops his cigarette and stomps it out. “I know if the situation were reversed…”

He grabs a spare rifle that had been leaned against the wall near him, tossing and catching it smoothly as he approaches Arthur.

“He’d look for me,” he finishes, holding the rifle out to Arthur with a slight nod. “C’mon. Can’t let the lady do all the work out there in the cold snow.” His tone was light and teasing, his words laced with the barest hint of an accent.

Arthur’s nose crinkles with annoyance as he scowls, the man grumbling under his breath. His eyes shifted to where Abigail stood beside Hosea, the woman turned slightly away in an attempt to hide the moisture that had gathered in her eyes. His features soften ever so slightly at the sight, his gaze flicking down to the floor. He sighs sharply, snatching the rifle from Javier with defeat. Javier grins at this as he approaches the door with heavy steps, Arthur glancing over the rifle and cocking it as he turns to follow. Abigail’s head turns at the sound, the woman’s eyes widening as she realizes they were both leaving.

“Thank you!” Abigail calls shakily to the men with relief.

She follows Arthur to the door, the man glancing back at her briefly before following Javier out into the cold.

-

“This way!” Javier calls over his shoulder, the two men riding out of camp atop their horses.

Javier rode an American Paint workhorse named Boaz, his pattern gray and white, and his mane black and cut short along his thick neck. His face was white, the area around his dark brown eyes gray as well and his legs splashed with both colors, though they were primarily white. Arthur rode on the unnamed mahogany and white Tennessee Walker, the man’s burly frame slightly too large for the horse, though he seems unbothered by the man on him as he allows him to guide him through the snow.

“Last I know, John was headed up the river,” Javier continues, exhaling shakily as he hunches a bit against the cold. “(Y/N) probably headed this way too, if she was looking for him.”

“For all we know, he kept riding north and never looked back!” Arthur growls back, disdain dripping from his words.

Arthur guides the horse along the snow-covered trail after Javier, his glove-covered hands grasping the reins tightly as his shoulders hunch against the cold.

“He wouldn’t leave,” Javier defends. “Not like that.”

Bitter anger rises in Arthur, the man gritting his teeth as he scoffs quietly.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” he replies bitterly.

The horses make their way through the snow, snow raining down on the two men and slowly covering their clothing. Boaz trots lightly through the thick snow, the horse Arthur was riding following along, soft snorts leaving both animals.

The land around them was dully lit by the sun’s gray light above, a haze of snow settled along the snow-covered ground and obscuring the vision of the men a bit as they guided their horses along the invisible trail. The tall, sky-reaching pine trees flitter with the strong gusts of wind that occasionally occur, snowflakes flurrying and swirling through the breeze.

Javier guides Boaz up a slanted hill, the horse’s ears flicking back slightly as he lets out a soft, low neigh. His tail swishes as he obediently obliges, his speed slowing a bit as Arthur guides his own horse to follow, both horses no doubt less than pleased to be out in the storm.

Javier exhales deeply as he shivers, the man briefly glancing back over his shoulder at Arthur. Arthur’s eyes were set ahead and his brow was furrowed, his jaw clenched up and his grip noticeably tight on the reins of the horse. His posture was stiff, tension evident in his form and mannerisms.

“You look stressed, my friend.” Javier mentions, gaining Arthur’s focus as his eyebrow lifts slightly. “Because of John… or because of (Y/N)?”

Arthur’s gaze hardens, the man’s eyes averting away as he scoffs.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” he questions gruffly and indifferently. “I’m fine.”

“No shame in admitting you’re worried,” Javier replies back light-heartedly, not looking back this time as he continues to guide Boaz.

“I’m fine,” Arthur grits out once more, his tone holding an undertone warning to drop it.

A breathless, amused chuckle leaves Javier, the man nodding his head.

“All right, all right!”

Javier smirks to himself as he looks ahead, his grip tightening on the reins of Boaz as he guides the horse up another slanted hill. His horse nickers softly in mild protest as he struggles up along the hill, Arthur following on his own horse.

Looking ahead, Javier’s amused expression falls to a more serious one when he notices something in the distance.

“Hey— I see some smoke!” he calls back to Arthur. “Come on, let’s take a look.”

Arthur frowns apprehensively. “Let’s hope it ain’t more of O’Driscoll’s boys.”

The two make it to the fire pit that had once been lit, white smoke still rising from the doused embers.

“Well,” Javier starts, grunting as he dismounts Boaz to inspect the camp. “Seems somebody left…” he mutters, more to himself than to Arthur. “Recently. Don’t think it was (Y/N)…”

Arthur remains on his horse as he watches Javier inspect the ground near the campfire, Javier lowering into a squat as he frowns deeply in thought.

“And…” His eyes scan along the tracks, the man noticing there were two sets of tracks as his eyes follow them. “Two tracks. Both head…”

Javier slowly rises as he raises a hand, pointing the direction the tracks go in.

“That way.” He determines, nodding to himself. “Gotta be (Y/N) and John. She must’ve come through here and followed his tracks.”

Arthur straightens up at this, nodding his head. “Sure, well, c’mon then!” he impatiently urges.

Javier doesn’t reply as he makes his way back to Boaz, the man lifting himself up onto the horse and settling on the saddle.

“The tracks lead to the river,” Javier tells Arthur, tapping his heels into Boaz’s sides. “Hyah!”

Boaz obeys and lurches forward in a trot, Javier steadying himself on the horse as he guides him, keeping his eyes focused down on the tracks as he does so. Arthur clicks his tongue while urging his horse forward as well, keeping up with Javier as he wipes some icy snow from his stubbled jaw.

“Let’s cross,” Javier encourages, guiding Boaz towards the rushing stream that divides the land. “See— they continue up that way!”

A soft, uncomfortable whinny leaves Arthur’s horse as he is led into the icy water of the treat, his ears flicking back slightly. His hooves rise highly out of the water with each step, Boaz doing the same as they trudge their way through the water.

“So, you think it’s John and (Y/N)?” Arthur questions the man.

Javier wryly chuckles. “You tell me. These are horse tracks for sure, but… could be anyone. Let’s just see where they lead.”

Arthur doesn’t like not knowing for sure the tracks belonged to (Y/N), the man’s teeth gritting slightly as he glances down at the tracks through the snow. The idea of (Y/N) being lost in the snow storm made his stomach twist, a deep sigh leaving his nose. His brow creases with worry as his grip tightens on the horse’s reins, the man shaking his head to try to clear his thoughts. Javier urges Boaz into a canter, Arthur doing the same to his own horse as they run through the fresh, thick snow along the ground.

“So…” Arthur starts, his expression becoming serious. “You were there, Javier. What really happened on that boat?”

Javier’s shoulder tense, the man hesitating for a moment before sighing. “We had the money, it seemed fine… then suddenly, they were everywhere.”

“Bounty hunters?” Arthur questions.

Javier shakes his head. “No, Pinkertons. It was crazy… raining bullets.”

Arthur doesn’t respond as his eyebrows furrow, the information of Pinkertons being there instead of bounty hunters both odd and concerning. The horses begin to slow as they climb up along the side of another hill, their movements sluggish as they trot along. The land begins to flatten slowly once more, Javier looking ahead and tugging on Boaz’s reins at the side of the land being divided by a massive gap.

“Watch out for this crevice!” he warns Arthur, turning Boaz to walk along to the right.

Arthur guides his horse to turn and walk alongside Javier and Boaz, Arthur glancing to the ravine warily. There was a brief moment of silence between the two men as they guide their horses along the crevice, Javier breaking it.

“Dutch… killed a girl. In a… bad way,” he hesitantly speaks, his voice strained. “But it was a bad situation.”

Arthur’s face falls grimly. “That ain’t like him, though.”

Javier doesn’t reply as they continue along the side of the crevice, the man’s eyes like a hawk’s as he watches the two sets of tracks.

“Tracks both go left, down here,” he tells Arthur, guiding Boaz to the left around the end of the crevice as Arthur follows. He sighs softly. “Davey got shot, Mac and John… both shot too. Sean, we don’t even know.” He taps his heels, urging Boaz into a canter once more. “I’m surprised we escaped at all. By the time you boys and (Y/N) showed up from the other side of town, we were only just holding on.”

Arthur nods, the man letting out a weary sigh. “Bad business all right.”

The horses were guided up yet another slanted hill, Arthur wincing as the winds began to kick up the fresh snow dusting the mountain. His shoulders tremble lightly as the air steadily decreases in temperature with the altitude, his horse whinnying quietly. Boaz slows down as the snow becomes thicker, both horses beginning to struggle up the slanted, snow-covered land.

“Damn snow’s coming in hard again!” he calls gruffly to Javier.

Javier nods while frowning, his eyes flicking along the tracks that were slowly beginning to cover in the fresh snow falling. “We’ll lose these tracks if we don’t move fast.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches at this, his brow furrowing as he looks around for any potential sign of (Y/N) other than the tracks they were following. Seeing nothing but a blank, white landscape, he exhales sharply through his nose, his attention returning ahead as he guides his horse to follow Javier. The horses make it up the slanted ground and veer to the right, boulders the size of a small home decorating the mountain and covered in snow.

“Careful. It’s getting narrow here,” Javier warns.

Arthur slows his horse down a bit with a soothing murmur, giving Javier and Boaz space ahead of him as the path winding up the mountain slowly begins to narrow the higher up they get. Arthur guides his horse to keep tucked against the mountain’s side, Javier doing the same to avoid spooking their animals with the drop.

“Come on, boy!” Arthur encourages as his horse begins to struggle with the slant of the elevating mountain side, the snow affecting his movement speed and steadiness. “The horses are struggling!” he calls to Javier.

Javier looks down at Boaz, his hand reaching down to pat the horse’s thick neck reassuringly. “Yeah… a lot of fresh snow here.”

Arthur looks down at the barely-visible tracks, the snow falling rapidly covering them up with each passing moment. Javier softly curses under his breath as they continue up the mountain, one set of tracks coming to an end, the second still visible— but only for a moment, a strong gust of snow and wind flurrying along the ground and effectively covering the rest of the tracks.

“Let’s keep pushing on. Maybe we’ll pick up the trail again,” Javier reassures Arthur, frowning as he guides Boaz up the mountain’s side.

Arthur’s eyes restlessly searched along the ground in hopes for any sign of the tracks they’d been following, his grip tight on the reins of his horse and his form tensed. The horses make it up the ledge and enter the vast expanse of the mountain, the snow untouched and fresh. The mountain top was curved with different shaped boulders and rocks, snow caked along the ledges of said boulders and no trees in sight.

“Hey, look!” Javier suddenly calls, Arthur’s gaze snapping up. “Over there! You see that?”

Without waiting for a response, Javier kicks Boaz into a sprint, the horse neighing softly. Arthur was quick to follow, both horses kicking up snow as they ran through the fresh powder towards a corpse of an animal leaned against a slanted portion of the hill. Arthur’s heart sinks as he recognizes it to be a horse’s corpse, the man letting out a ‘Hyah!’ as he urges his horse quicker. Javier’s eyes dart to the man as he rides past him, Arthur’s eyes locked on the horse’s corpse as he draws near.

Crows pecking at the horse’s corpse scatter with caws at the sudden presence of the man and horse, relief flooding Arthur as he is able to now fully see the horse. It wasn’t Taima. His heart pounds in his ears as he lets out a deep exhale from his lips, his shoulders loosening slightly as Javier joins him on Boaz. Blood was pooled around the horse’s corpse and it appeared to have been ripped up by a wild animal, its stomach split open and its guts spilled out into the snow.

“John was riding that horse when we left Blackwater,” Javier points out with worry.

“Oh,” Arthur mumbles. “That’s…”

He shakes his head, frowning deeply as his eyes observe the horse’s corpse. His own horse nickers uneasily at the sight of it, his front leg lifting before he stomps at the snow gently with a low nicker. Arthur’s hand absentmindedly strokes his horse’s neck in a reassuring manner, the man guiding his horse around the corpse with a wide berth.

“Let’s see if he or (Y/N) can hear us,” Javier says, Arthur’s eyes flicking to the man as he watches him pull out his pistol.

Javier aims the pistol towards the sky, firing two shots. The shots crackle through the air as Arthur’s horse jumps slightly, Boaz snorting and shaking his head out as his ears flick back. Arthur’s hand presses against his horse’s neck as he begins to shift anxiously from the gunfire, his ears pinning a bit as he whinnies before settling once more.

“Hey— help!” a voice suddenly cries out, the voice muffled and distant. “Here!”

Arthur’s head turns at the sound of John’s voice, Javier perking up visibly with relief as he lowers his pistol and tucks it back into its holster.

“Come on! Up there!” Javier urges, nodding to the slanted, elevated slope nearby.

Javier urges Boaz into a trot with a flick of the reins, Arthur hesitating for a moment as he listens for any sign of (Y/N)’s voice. Hearing none, his grip tightens on his horse’s reins as he urges him to follow Javier, his jaw tightened and forehead wrinkled with his furrowed brow. The horses struggle up along the slope, the wind starting to pick up once more as fresh snowflakes rain down on the men.

“Hello?!” John’s voice calls desperately. “Over here!”

His voice was still distant and faint as they slowed their horses on an even terrain, Javier dismounting Boaz.

“It’s coming from up ahead somewhere,” Javier calls to Arthur, observing the narrow, uneven path up ahead. “I don’t think we can go much further on the horses— we’ll have to walk from here.”

Arthur nods in response as he dismounts his own horse with a grunt, his hand lingering on the horse’s neck as he gently strokes it.

“I’d grab that shotgun from your horse,” Javier suggests, glancing back at Arthur as he nods to the shotgun currently holstered on the man’s horse’s saddle. “Who knows what’s up ahead.”

Arthur sighs deeply as his breath visibly puffs into the air, the man rubbing his gloved hands together as the icy cold stings at his skin. He reaches out and slides the shotgun free from the holster in the saddle, the man replacing his revolver tucked in the holster at his hip with it. He slides his pistol into the horse’s saddle before holstering his shotgun at his hip, the man turning and approaching Javier as snow clings to his pant legs and boots. The snow reached just below their knees as they trudged through it, leaving behind their steeds.

They make their way forward and down a descending slope, to their right a large wall of snow-covered stoney face of the mountain. Arthur eyes the ground warily as he leans back partially to balance his weight, Javier doing the same as they move carefully down the unmarked path.

“Over here!” John’s voice calls out once more. “Help!”

Javier swallows thickly as the hill becomes steeper, the man grimacing as he extends his arms on either side of him to keep balance.

“It’s slippery here, be careful,” he warns, his eyes widening at the sight of the drop at the abrupt edge of the mountain. “Mierda, we’re high up here…” He groans.

Arthur catches himself as he nearly slips, his arms also outstretched at his sides for balance as his face tightens with concentration.

“You’re tellin’ me,” Arthur agrees, eyeing the edge as well as the slope evens out.

The men both carefully make their way around the bend, keeping tucked close to the mountain as the wind lashes around them.

“Help me!” the voice of John cries out, his voice a bit louder this time.

Arthur looks up at the sound as Javier does the same, Arthur exhaling shakily as he hugs himself for warmth. He rubs his arms through his sleeves, the man’s teeth clenching to refrain from chattering. The wind felt colder and sharper up this high, the skin of his cheeks burning from the snowflakes that sting like small bullets each time they land on him.

“Careful.” Javier groans, seeming almost sick due to how high up they were. “There’s a drop here.”

Javier lowers before sliding down from the ledge onto another chunk of the mountain, Arthur sighing deeply as he follows.

“It’s slippery, be careful!” Javier warns as he descends the steep slant, some of the stone of the mountain exposed and glistening with snowflakes.

Arthur doesn’t respond as he follows Javier's path down the slant, the two men approaching a narrow, natural crawl-space through the mountain in their way. Javier crouches down low and makes his way under the gap, the man glancing over his shoulder as Arthur crouches down and moves forward.

“Watch your head!” Javier once again warns, Arthur feeling grateful for the warning when he nearly smacks his forehead against the top of the stone.

Ducking his head lower than he had been previously, Arthur crouch-walks after Javier through the space. It opens into the other side, Javier sighing and grunting softly as he straightens up.

“Okay from here,” he reassures, glancing back to Arthur as Arthur rises to his full height as well.

Arthur follows Javier along the narrow, rocky path, the man’s eyes flicking along the thin layer of snow warily.

“Watch your step,” Arthur warns gruffly. “This is real slippery.”

Javier nods. “Keep close to the wall.”

Both men take careful, calculated steps along the narrow path as they hug the wall, Arthur blowing into his glove-covered hands in a small attempt to get some warmth to his numbing fingers. He hugs himself and rubs his arms, Javier adjusting his poncho and shivering as they continue on.

“Up here,” Javier calls to Arthur, glancing up to a ledge that was a few inches above him. “Come on!”

Javier jumps and grabs onto the ledge, his legs swinging before he steadies his footing against the stone. He pulls himself up with a soft grunt of effort, the man rising to his feet and stepping out of the way. Arthur follows, the man easily scaling the ledge thanks to his height, the man grunting as he pulls himself up before following after Javier.

“Hey!” John calls out desperately once more, his voice definitely closer this time. “Over here!”

“That sounds closer now!” Javier points out as he steps down from a ledge, smoothly landing and continuing forward. “Come on.”

Arthur doesn’t reply to this as he follows Javier’s path with a slight scowl on his face, the man becoming increasingly restless as the temperature continues to drop the higher they climb. He looks to the sky and squints, the sun grayed out behind a thick layer of clouds.

“We’re coming, John!” Javier calls in a strained voice to the man, lifting himself up onto another ledge as Arthur follows.

Arthur jumps up and grabs hold of the ledge, his legs swinging lightly before he effectively pulls himself up with a grunt. The two men do this once more with another ledge, Arthur growling under his breath irritably as his ice-cold hands grip the ledge to pull himself up.

“Damn, it’s cold!” he hisses, mostly to himself.

Javier leads him into a tall, narrow gap in between two masses of the mountain, the space allowing them a moment of rest and relief from the harsh winds that whistle around them. Sighing deeply, Javier pauses to catch his breath, Arthur shivering and hugging himself as he glares at the ground.

“How you doing?” Javier questions, panting softly as he wipes some snow from his facial hair.

“I’m miserable,” Arthur grumbles without missing a beat, exhaling sharply as he hunches over while rubbing his arms. “Been a tough few days.”

Javier sighs as well, nodding. “I know…” he agrees solemnly.

The man perks up, his eyes shifting down as he rummages through his satchel. He pulls out a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon, uncorking it and taking a long swig of the rich liquid.

“Here,” Javier rasps as he lowers the bottle, re-corking it before tossing it over to Arthur, who easily catches it. “Drink this.”

Arthur’s eyes light up as he looks down at the bottle, the man breathlessly chuckling as he lifts it towards Javier. “Thanks.”

Grasping the cork between his teeth, he pulls it out and spits it to the side. He lifts the bottle to his lips, the man eagerly downing the liquid. It burns his throat pleasantly, Arthur exhaling loudly with relief as he lowers the now-empty bottle, tucking it away into his satchel.

“I’m not designed for this snow…” Javier complains as he trembles like a leaf, his arms hidden beneath his poncho as he hugs himself for warmth. Noticing Arthur was finished with the drink, he nods. “Let’s keep moving.”

Arthur sighs heavily, but he doesn’t complain, the man following Javier out of the small sanctuary as they continue their way up the mountain.

“John!” Javier shouts, trudging up the small incline through the snow. “John, where are you?”

The two men look to one another for a moment when they don’t receive a response, Arthur grumbling under his breath.

“John?!” Javier calls once more.

“Marston!” Arthur barks sharply, his voice strong against the wind. “You there?!”

“I’m here!” the voice of John suddenly shouts from nearby, both men looking to the source. “Out on the ledge!”

Javier and Arthur nod to one another, both men hurrying through the snow.

“We’re coming!” Javier shouts in response.

The two men rush down the small slant, Arthur panting softly through clenched teeth as he grimaces at the cold.

“Over here!” John continues to shout, wanting them to follow his voice. “Down here! Here! You fellers there?!”

“All right!” Arthur snarls in annoyance as both men approach the ledge. “Pipe down, Marston!”

Arthur huffs as he moves to stand beside Javier, both men peering down at John Marston. The man sat injured leaning against the ledge they stood on, his head dipped and his breathing heavy, one of his legs extended in front of him bloodied. John slowly lifts his head, his shoulder length, messy hair fluttering in the wind.

“That’s quite a scratch you got there,” Arthur comments nonchalantly.

John’s face was covered in blood, deep gashes scratched into his right cheek and along his lip vertically. The bridge of his nose had a small sliver of a chunk missing from what appeared to be the bite of an animal, the left side of his cheek the same. His left eye was completely bloodshot and squinted lightly, his lips pale and tinged a soft shade of blue.

John pants softly, his eyes flicking up to Arthur. “Never thought I’d say this, but… it’s good to see you, Arthur Morgan.”

Arthur only grunts at this, the man sighing as he lowers himself down onto the ledge John was on. Arthur crouches down beside John and looks him over, the smallest hint of concern entering his eyes as he takes in his state.

“You don’t look so good,” he mumbles, straightening up to his full height.

John grimaces as he clutches his bleeding knee, the fabric of his pants torn there. “I don’t feel too good neither,” he dryly replies.

Arthur lowers himself down towards John, John reaching up towards Arthur instinctively. Arthur’s arms wrap around the man as he hoists him up with a sharp breath, John settled over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“I’m freezing.” John’s voice trembles as he speaks.

Arthur focuses on carrying the man, Javier crouching down and reaching out to grab hold of John. Arthur tilts John’s form towards the man, Javier grabbing under his arms and lifting him up as John lets out a stifled sound of pain.

“I take it (Y/N) ain’t with you,” Arthur bluntly questions as he looks over John, already knowing the answer as his chest becomes tight.

“What?” John questions back with alarm and concern, blinking slowly as his brow furrows. “No— I ain’t seen her at all. She come after me? Alone?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow at the almost accusatory tone in John’s questions.

“Don’t you try to lecture me, cowboy,” he mumbles lowly, though his tone holds less bite than usual due to John’s injured state as he pulls himself up onto the ledge.

“Come on, compadre,” Javier encourages, slowly rising with the man John’s arm wraps around his neck and shoulders for support.

Arthur steps forward and grabs hold of John once more, John hopping on one leg to avoid putting weight on his injured one. Javier aids in passing him off to Arthur, John draping over Arthur’s shoulder once more as the man lifts him with a grunt of effort. John groans in pain as Arthur begins to carry him over the shoulder, Javier leading the two.

“Well… we can’t go back the way we came,” Javier mentions, knowing there was no chance of carrying John through the path they took. “Let’s try this way. See if we can find any sign of (Y/N).”

Arthur adjusts his grip on John, his hand resting against his back to keep him steady over his shoulder. “Ain’t you a sorry sight,” he taunts.

John sharply breathes, his lips pulling up in a humorless smile. “Can’t… argue with you there.”

“See.” Arthur clicks his tongue in an exasperated manner. “I told Dutch you weren’t the right man for this.”

“I’m sure you did,” John dryly replies, his face falling as he groans in pain.

“You alright?” Javier questions with concern, glancing back at the two men as they make their way along the mountain.

John breathes heavily. “I think so…”

Javier frowns at his response. “Come on— hopefully this will lead us out.”

-

The two men emerge from the nook as Arthur continues carrying John over his shoulder, the three men not noticing that they were currently being watched by a hungry predator lurking in the distance. The path they had taken led to a large clearing, Javier biting down on his lower lip before sharply whistling a few times. The high pitched sound echoes softly, the distant sound of a horse’s neigh answering the familiar call.

Boaz emerges from around the mountain’s bend cantering through the snow, Arthur’s own horse following the steed— no doubt to keep with the herd for safety in numbers. Both horses slow into a quick trot as Boaz spots Javier, Arthur’s horse still following Boaz as they approach the men, both coming to a stop a few feet from them. Javier suddenly comes to a stop as he lifts a hand, the man slowly crouching down as Arthur frowns, his eyebrows furrowing.

“What?” Arthur questions, tilting his chin up towards Javier in a prompting manner.

“Tracks…” Javier replies, his eyes focused as he points to the snow, slowly trailing them up. “Lot of them.”

Arthur perks up as he swiftly marches forward, John groaning lowly in pain at the sudden, jostling movement as his expression tightens. Arthur looks down the different sets of tracks, his heart beginning to race with elation and relief.

“Probably… the wolves,” John grits out through his teeth, breathing sharply.

“Wait…” Javier mumbles, his eyes squinting. “One of these tracks is different than the others— looks bigger.” Javier’s eyes scan through the tracks expertly. “Like a…” He pauses, his voice becoming quiet. “Horse’s.”

Arthur’s face hardens at this, his jaw tightening.

“Shit,” he lowly curses under his breath.

Javier rises as Arthur begins to briskly approach where their horses were loyally waiting, Javier quickly rushing to follow.

“Get John back to the camp,” Arthur orders sternly as he walks, John grunting at the movement. “I’ll try and follow the tracks to find (Y/N). Now—”

Javier’s eyes flick past Arthur, his face falling. “Look up there!” he cuts the man off.

Arthur’s head whips to the side as he follows Javier’s pointed finger, his expression hardening at the sight of wolves lurking on the ledge. Their hungry gaze was locked on the three men, John wincing as he used his hands against Arthur’s back to lift his head to see what the men were both looking at.

One of the wolves howls, John’s eyes widening as his form slumps with exhaustion once more.

“Perfect!” Arthur growls with impatience. “I’ll distract them while you get to the horses.”

He lowers John from his shoulder carefully as the wolves disappear from sight, no doubt heading down the ledge. He passes John off to Javier, Javier winding John’s arm around his shoulder to help him get his balance.

“Go!” Arthur gruffly orders. “I’ll draw ‘em off you.”

Javier nods as he lowers down, John draping himself over Javier’s shoulders before Javier rises with a grunt of effort. He carries John over his shoulder, hastily making his way through the snow towards the horses— who were quickly becoming agitated due to the howling of the wolves.

“Alright John, come on!” Javier speaks reassuringly, panting softly as he hurries. “Let’s get you on that horse.”

Arthur hangs back as he draws his shotgun, the man’s eyes like a hawk’s as he watches the wolves beginning their descent down the hill. They were fast and elegant as they ran through the snow, their movements coordinated as they locked their hungry gaze onto their next meal— Arthur. Arthur grunts as he begins to rush towards them, the man coming to a stop and lifting his shotgun with a steady gaze.

“Hey!” he sharply calls, whistling sharply to keep their focus on him as Javier continues to rush towards the horses behind him, John leaving behind a trail of blood as it drips off his face.

The three wolves snarl viciously as they charge towards Arthur, the man firing his shotgun into the closest wolf. It goes down with a pained, high-pitched cry, the blast startling the other wolves into hesitating as they bark and growl. One circles around Arthur with a roar as the other charges at his front, Arthur shooting down one before hastily scrambling back as he begins to fumble to reload his weapon. The wolf lunges for Arthur, the man bracing himself, but the animal is then shot through the neck, the sound of the bullet crackling through the air.

Pools of blood begin to gather under the corpses of the wolves, Arthur panting sharply as a horse’s neighing rings out. His eyes snap to the source of the one who’d saved him, (Y/N) sitting atop Taima unharmed, her pistol raised as steam hisses softly from the barrel.

“Arthur!” (Y/N) exclaims as she pants softly, her gaze locked on the man as she guides Taima closer. “What’re you doing out here?”

Taima neighs softly as she trots to Arthur, her ears perked up and twitching as she listens to the area warily. (Y/N) huffs softly as the wind flutters through her hair, snowflakes clinging to her clothing and dusting along Taima.

“Out here in this mess looking for you!” Arthur growls back, masking his concern with the protective anger that burned in his chest. “The hell were you thinkin’ comin’ up here alone?” he demands.

(Y/N)’s expression hardens with mild annoyance at his scolding, the woman gently tugging on Taima’s reins to slow her. “Lookin’ for John since no one else was planning to!”

Arthur bristles at the accusation, but he doesn’t argue, the man knowing that he hadn’t been planning on searching for the man. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have.

“Should’ve just told me—” Arthur starts.

“(Y/N)!” Javier greets with surprise and relief, unintentionally cutting Arthur off as he approaches on the back of Boaz. “Good to see you’re in one piece after meeting John’s new friends!”

Arthur’s horse trots alongside Javier while neighing anxiously, Arthur grumbling under his breath with irritation to himself as he stomps over to his horse. He hoists himself up, settling his weight on the saddle as he turns the horse to face (Y/N) so he’d be looking at her, his hand patting the horse’s neck to calm it.

“John’s friends?” (Y/N) repeats with confusion, softly gasping as she notices John on the back of Javier’s horse behind him, his face mauled. “Oh—” She cringes, her nose scrunching with sympathy as her teeth clench.

“I know,” John rasps, weakly snorting at her reaction to his appearance. “You’re lucky you ain’t turn out like this out here alone.”

“Almost did. But Taima’s quick— she even kicked one of them when it got too close,” (Y/N) admits with a breathless laugh, shaking her head as she caresses Taima’s snow-covered mane. “I’ve been tryin’ to shake them off for a while. Got a few of them, but they’re stubborn bastards. We should get going before more show up.”

“I agree,” Javier says, nodding as he turns Boaz around.

(Y/N) guide Taima forward as Arthur reloads his shotgun, the man tucking it away in the holster at his hip as he grabs hold of the reins of his horse. Arthur gently shushes his agitated horse as he rubs his neck, the horse nickering as his ears flick around, the horse still on edge.

“Come on, then!” Javier encourages, spurring Boaz into a canter as the horse obeys. “Let’s get back to the others!”

(Y/N) gently whispers to Taima and spurs her into a run as well, Arthur grunting a soft ‘Yah’ as he does the same to his own horse. He guides his horse to run along the left side of Javier and John, (Y/N) positioning Taima on their right side as their horses canter through the snow.

“I don’t feel too good,” John groans painfully, his form slumped to the right weakly as he grips Javier for balance.

(Y/N) frowns as she rides a bit closer, worried of the man potentially falling off the saddle in his weakened state.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you back soon,” she reassures, her concern for the man she’s known since a child evident.

“Exactly. You'll be fine!” Javier agrees reassuringly as well. “It’s just like a…” He trails off, hesitating. “A dog bite!”

John exhales deeply through his mouth. “I knew a feller, got bit by a dog…” He grimaces. “Died an hour later.”

(Y/N) and Javier exchange a wide-eyed look, Arthur scowling to himself as he glares ahead while they ride.

“You ain’t gonna die,” Javier replies after a moment, his tone light and confident. “… Not yet.”

“Still got some years on you yet, John,” (Y/N) agrees with a small smile, nodding as she looks around the area sharply.

The three horses run through the snow as snow begins to fall heavily from the sky once more, the sun slowly becoming blocked out behind dark gray clouds as the land darkens. (Y/N) shivers as she breathes through clenched teeth while continuing to look around warily, Arthur grimacing at the cold as well and John wincing as he huddles against Javier for balance and warmth.

“Hey!” (Y/N) urgently calls, nodding up to the ridge to their right. “More of them!” She looks to Javier. “Arthur and I’ll keep ‘em off you! Just keep riding!”

Arthur’s eyes sharpen as he spurs his horse to the right closer to (Y/N) and Taima, the man unholstering his shotgun as (Y/N) draws her pistol. He guides his horse to the right of (Y/N) and Taima, putting himself between her and the wolves knowing full well her pistol’s bullets won’t do much against the ravenous beasts. (Y/N) looks to Arthur with gratitude despite him not looking at her, the woman raising her pistol and firing at the legs of one of the wolves closing in.

The bullet strikes the wolf’s leg, causing it to yip painfully and collapse onto its front as its chin smacks into the ground. Arthur does the mercy of killing it with his shotgun, the man turning the barrel to another wolf charging at his side and firing as his free hand firmly grips his horse’s reins. Reloading his shotgun, (Y/N) rides ahead a few paces to have a clear shot, the woman firing multiple rounds into the final wolf of the trio that had been pursuing them.

Nodding to herself as she reloads her pistol, she and Arthur both ride alongside one another, the two urging their horses into a fast gallop to catch up with Javier.

“Good shooting!” Javier praises the two, not taking his eyes off the path ahead.

They begin to descend the mountain’s side, the snow still thick beneath the horse’s hooves as they canter along the slope. (Y/N) soothes Taima when the horse nearly slips, Taima warily neighing and bouncing a bit as she corrects her footing. Arthur looks to (Y/N) as she steadies Taima, (Y/N) catching his eye as the man gives her a stare of disapproval— something she recognized well from their childhood.

“Still upset?” she questions, her tone light and almost teasing.

Arthur’s brow twitches at this, the man growing irritated at her lack of concern. “You know how Hosea feels on you headin’ out alone— how I feel about it, too.”

His chest still felt tight from his earlier stress and his knuckles ached from how tightly he’d been holding his reins, the man exhaling deeply and sharply as he looked ahead with a disapproving shake of his head.

“I’m not a kid like Lenny, Arthur,” (Y/N) calls back, her tone soft yet holding a strongness to it. “You and Hosea both know I can take care of myself.” She guides Taima closer to Arthur, tilting her head forward as the man eyes her from the corner of his eye. “I do appreciate the concern. Reminds me you’re really just a big softie under that surliness.”

Arthur bristles at the statement, his eyes darting to Javier and John riding ahead. Both men don’t seem to hear thankfully, the man’s ears burning with embarrassment. He scowls as his gaze returns to (Y/N), his grip on the reins of his horse tight.

“I just don’t understand why you ain’t even get me up before you came out here!” he growls out, choosing to ignore her earlier words. “I’d have—” He hesitates, exhaling sharply. “I’d have come along with you, you know that.”

(Y/N)'s expression softens, a sigh leaving her. “Arthur, I know how exhausted you are— we all are! You needed rest, and Abigail had practically jumped on me the moment I entered the buildin’ begging me to find John. What was I supposed to do, sit around mopin’ about things until you woke up?” She shakes her head, glancing around the land. “Figured you’d be more grateful for the rest.”

Before Arthur could reply, another gravelly howl rings out, his head snapping to his right as another wolf descends the hill chasing after the four. (Y/N) gasps as she looks to their left, two more wolves also approaching on the other side of them and closing in fast. Arthur’s head turns side to side before he yanks the reins of his horse to the right, (Y/N) remaining on the left side as she aims her pistol at the lone wolf.

“Next time you’re plannin’ on risking your life, just let me know!” he yells over the blast of his shotgun, his voice lost in the sound for a moment and dripping in sarcasm.

Arthur aims and fires another shot at the second wolf, the man cursing softly when his shot misses due to his horse jerking due to being agitated. He rubs his horse’s neck soothingly before hastily reloading his weapon, the man raising and firing his shotgun at the second wolf, blood splattering along the snow.

“For goodness sake,” (Y/N) mutters under her breath, firing at the lone wolf to the left that had been getting close to Javier riding ahead. “We still on this? It’s done and over. I went alone because I knew I could handle it. End of.”

“Handle it?” Arthur repeats incredulously, shaking his head as he pulls his horse’s reins to the right to guide it. “Bein’ chased down by wolves for God knows how long is handlin’ it?” he demands irritably, his brow furrowed as a hint of concern enters his hardened gaze. “You can’t be goin’ off alone. Especially not now with everything that’s happened!”

The words he truly wanted to say felt stuck to the tip of his tongue, his throat uncomfortably tightened with emotion as he roughly holsters his shotgun. He wasn’t sure if he could handle another death in the gang— especially not hers. He knew others would be devastated as well, Dutch and Hosea included. But it felt different to him— more personal. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he scoffs through his teeth at how… soft he felt, the man scowling.

“I understand that, Arthur, but—” She sighs sharply, holstering her pistol as she focuses on the descent of the mountain. “How about we talk about this when we’re not bein’ chased by wolves?”

Arthur humorlessly chuckles at this. “Oh, we will!” he promises lowly in return.

“Lookin’ forward to it!” she calls back.

(Y/N) looks over to Arthur as a soft, fond and exasperated sigh leaves her, the woman tapping her heels against Taima’s side to encourage the horse into a gallop once more to catch up with Javier up ahead. Arthur does the same, the man’s expression stormy and soured, though, his eyes do soften a fraction as they linger on the woman riding ahead.

“You see any more, you two?” Javier questions, glancing back over his shoulder briefly as the two catch up to him.

Arthur looks around briefly, shaking his head. “Don’t think so.”

The three horses gallop down the mountain through the snow, pine trees beginning to decorate the land once more the lower they descend. The sky was now a dark gray, the forest barely lit despite it being the late afternoon by this point. Wind whips around the four aggressively, the snowfall heavy against their backs as they ride.

“Jesus!” John wheezes painfully as Boaz jostles, the man wincing.

Arthur’s gaze shifts to the back of John. “You still with us, Marston?”

“Just about.” John manages back, breathing heavily.

(Y/N)’s eyes scan along the land, her features softening with worry. “Don’t worry, John. We’ve got shelter and you’ll be rested and better in no time.”

John weakly nods at this, panting softly as he turns his head to look at her. “Thanks for comin’ for me.”

He turns his head the other way to Arthur, nodding at him in acknowledgment for coming as well. Arthur grunts quietly as he looks away, not returning the sentiment as he frowns deeply.

“Of course,” Javier replies. “That bullet in Blackwater, now this? You had a hell of a time.”

John wryly laughs, the sound raspy. “And Arthur always says… I’m lucky!” he jokes.

(Y/N) softly snickers under her breath, Arthur rolling his eyes lightly to himself as a quiet scoff leaves him.

“None of us are lucky right now,” Javier points out with mild amusement.

The land begins to even out as they reach the base of the mountain, the sound of the rushing stream blended in with the wind that rages on around them. Turning their horses, they rode along the stream, the snow a little less thick than it had been on the mountain itself and granting the horses temporary relief.

“Riding in the water might do us some good,” (Y/N) calls over to Javier, wincing at the icy snowflakes as they hit her cheeks. “Horses won’t care for it, but it’ll throw off any wolves if they’re trackin’ our scent.”

Javier looks to the water with thought, nodding his head. “Don’t want to lead them back to camp,” he agrees.

Pulling his reins to the left, he guides Boaz into the icy stream, his horse whinnying softly in displeasure as he jostles slightly. (Y/N) guide Taima after him, Arthur doing the same with his own horse. The water splashes against the leather of their boots as the horses canter through it, Arthur looking over John considerately for a moment.

“You know, we’re gonna need to come up with a better story for that scar,” he comments, the barest hint of humor lacing his words.

John looks back to Arthur incredulously. “So… freezing, bleeding, starving… damn near gettin’ eaten to death ain’t good enough for you?”

Arthur only shrugs a shoulder impassively, his lips tugged in a frown. (Y/N) looks between the two briefly, a soft scoff of exasperated amusement leaving her at the familiar banter between the two.

“Here! Let’s cross left here,” Javier urges to the two behind him.

He guides Boaz out of the stream as (Y/N) and Arthur follow on their horses, the horses struggling to regain their footing on the snow for a moment before continuing in a gallop along the path caked in snow. Arthur looks up as the weather takes a turn for the worse, the man not keen on the thought of being out here when the snow becomes thicker. He looks over to (Y/N), the woman seeming to have the same thought as she looks around apprehensively, noticing the fog getting thicker around them from the wind and snow kicking up.

“Let’s push hard and get back,” Arthur tells Javier, his tone calm but urgent as he nods.

Javier doesn’t look back or reply, but he does tap his heels into Boaz’s side with a click of his tongue, the horse nickering as he obeys the wordless command. Boaz’s speed increases into a quick gallop, (Y/N) and Arthur following after Javier and John on their own horses as they also pick up speed to keep up. They ride along the bend of the stream, Javier perking up as he looks ahead and spots the familiar buildings in the distance.

“See those buildings up ahead John?” he questions John, wanting to keep him both awake and hopeful. “That’s where we’re camped. Nearly there.”

The three don’t allow their horses to lose their speed as the mighty beasts gallop through the snow towards Colter, John hanging onto Javier with a rapidly weakening grip as his form leans further to his right with exhaustion. (Y/N) guides Taima to Javier’s right as she occasionally looks to John while riding, the woman ready to reach out if she needs to. Arthur rides along Javier to the right, the man’s eyes scanning the area around them for any sign of more hungry predators lurking in the thick pines.

They ride past the wagons still snowed in near the entrance of the mining camp, Taima snorting heavily as (Y/N) begins to pull gently on her reins to slow her. Arthur does the same to his own horse, Javier doing this as well as they enter the camp.

“Come on! Someone help John off this horse!” Javier shouts to no one in particular, slowing near the buildings.

“Come out and help!” (Y/N) calls as well, her voice cutting through the whistling wind as she pulls Taima into a trot after Javier.

Arthur’s eyes narrow irritably as no one answers their calls, the man huffing softly as he guides his horse after (Y/N) and Javier.

“Can we get some help here?” His deep, raspy voice bellows strongly, no doubt finally alerting those inside to their presence.

The door was slammed open, Abigail stumbling out with wide eyes as she breathed heavily. She rushes into the snow and nearly trips over her skirt, the woman uncaring. (Y/N) dismounts Taima with a soft grunt as she holds onto the reins, Abigail shakily laughing with pure elation and relief.

“You’re alive! You’re both alive!” she cries with relief, her blue eyes watering slightly as she looks from (Y/N) to John still atop Javier’s horse. “Oh, you’re alive!”

(Y/N) smiles softly at the sound of utter relief and adoration in Abigail’s voice, Abigail gazing up at John as if he’d hung the moon for her. John looks down at Abigail with uncertainty as he frowns, his eyes averting away almost awkwardly. Hosea rushes out of the building, the man’s old features softening greatly at the sight of both (Y/N) and John back. Charles, Lenny and Bill emerge from the building as well, Lenny and Bill making a beeline for Javier and John as they quickly begin to help the man off the horse.

Bill rounds Boaz to ease him down into Lenny, John crying out in agony as his leg was jostled.

“Ay!” Javier exclaims, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Careful, idiotas! It’s his leg!”

Charles approaches where (Y/N) stood with Taima, the woman straightening up as she faces him. Taima lets out a high pitched nicker at the sight of Charles, her ears perking forward as she paws gently at the ground. He quietly shushes her as his uninjured, gloved hand strokes along her muzzle, the horse huffing softly as she bumps her nose into his palm.

“Sorry I had her longer than I said I would,” (Y/N) apologizes, watching as Bill and Lenny help John inside. “Had some trouble with wolves, but your girl’s strong. Gave one a kick.” She chuckles wearily, shaking her head.

Charles’ eyes shift from Taima to (Y/N), (Y/N) surprised by the faintest hint of a smile that tugs at his lips at her words. It was gone in a moment, the man nodding to her and grabbing Taima’s reins as he led her over to the barn where the other horses were being kept.

Abigail crowds around Bill and Lenny as they help John inside, Arthur slowly dismounting his horse and patting along the horse’s thick neck as he watches them as well.

“Come on, let’s get you warm!” Abigail fusses, panting softly as her attention shifts to Arthur and (Y/N), Javier moving to join them. “Thank you!” she calls shakily to the three, her eyes shining with relief and joy. “Thank you all!”

Arthur nods wordlessly as Javier offers her a kind smile, (Y/N) lifting her hand in a dismissing gesture while smiling— the woman not needing thanks for going after the man. Her head turns to the side when a hand gently touches her shoulder, Hosea having approached from behind. He squeezes her shoulder gently, his other hand coming up to rest on Arthur’s right shoulder as they watch the small group head inside.

Leopold Strauss— an old, pale-skinned man with slicked back graying brown hair under a flat hat exits the building as well as he hugs himself for warmth, his glasses fogging up a bit. He wore a red and gray plaided scarf, his coat wool and dark gray and buttoned up to the white collar of his dress shirt.

“This is a new low, even by your standards!” Abigail chides gently, hovering as Bill and Lenny guide John to lay down on a bench covered in cloth.

“Thank you— Thank you three,” Hosea softly says, lowering his hand from (Y/N) and Arthur’s shoulders as he sighs shakily from the cold.

Javier turns to him with a nod and a wave of his hand, the man tilting his hat to Hosea before heading towards the building he and the other men were currently bunking in for some rest.

“You have any other lost maidens that need savin’?” Arthur rhetorically questions with dry humor, rubbing his gloved hands together as he motions towards (Y/N). “I’m sure she’d run off without a second thought if so.”

“You’d be right about that,” (Y/N) replies unapologetically and cheekily, earning a scoff from Arthur as he tries to fight off the urge to smirk with amusement.

Hosea shakes his head with a raspy laugh, warmth in his eyes as he regards the two. “Not today.”

Leopold shifts closer to the three as he trembles from the cold, Hosea adjusting his hat as he sighs shakily once more while hunching slightly.

“Have you and Dutch talked about how we’re gonna get out of this?” Arthur questions gruffly, frowning.

(Y/N) nods in agreement to Arthur’s question as she instinctively shifts closer to him, her attention on Hosea as she tilts her head.

“I was just discussing with Herr Strauss…” Hosea starts, the group looking up as Lenny and Bill exit the church, no doubt to resume their duties around the camp. “When the weather breaks, I…” He hesitates, sighing. “I suppose we’ll have to keep heading east.”

(Y/N) blinks owlishly at this, her face falling. “East?” she repeats, grimacing as she looks to Arthur for a moment. “You sure about that, Hosea?”

Arthur seems equally disgusted by the notion, his eyes wide as he frowns deeply. “Into all that—” He hesitates, as if the word pains him to say. “— that civilization?” he whispers, the word almost taboo coming from his lips.

“I know, you two, I know,” Hosea reassures with a nod. “But the west is where our problems are worse.”

Arthur sighs as he nods, knowing the man was right but not liking it. (Y/N) frowns as she looks down to the snow-covered ground, realizing it was for the best despite how they might feel of it.

“Come on, Herr Strauss! Let’s get warm,” Hosea declares, nodding to the building as he hugs himself.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. Miss (L/N),” Leopold politely says, nodding to the two with a smile before turning to follow after Hosea.

Arthur lifts a hand with a nod, (Y/N) smiling in return as they both watch the older men head inside of the church to get warm. Arthur turns to (Y/N) as the two stand side-by-side, the man’s expression softening. He opens his mouth to say something, but (Y/N) beats him to it.

“Now then!” She cheerfully starts, sighing deeply as she dusts some snow from her coat. “I am in need of a rest. Something about being chased down a mountain in a snowstorm really takes it out of ya.” Her tone was light and playful, the woman turning towards Arthur as she steps forward to head around him.

The man was caught off guard by her words, his brow furrowing and his expression both baffled and hardened as he moved to block her path.

“Oh, hold on now— we ain’t done!” Arthur firmly says, shaking his head as he lifts a finger for emphasis. “You said we’d talk when we got back.”

(Y/N) softly clicks her tongue, gazing up at the man with a look of confusion as she tilts her head. “Did I?” she questions, pretending to think. “Must’ve been Javier, ‘cause I don’t remember saying anything like that.” She shrugs, a glint of mischief and amusement in her gaze. “Ah, well! What’s done is done, and we could both use some rest.”

(Y/N) pats Arthur’s shoulder in a friendly, nonchalant manner as she steps around him, the woman walking past him as she begins to make her way to the building they were staying in for some much needed rest.

Arthur stammers with disbelief for a moment, the man turning to watch her. “Don’t you try that innocent act on me!” he calls to her sternly, though the faintest hint of amusement and bafflement enters his tone. “(Y/N)!”

(Y/N) continues towards the building with a spring to her step, the woman smiling to herself as she playfully ignores Arthur’s calls. Arthur sighs roughly to himself as he watches her with a scowl, however, it slowly softens as his lips curve up in a warm half-smile against his will. He lowly chuckles, shaking his head with fond exasperation as he begins to trudge through the snow after her.

“I ain’t keen on you ignorin’ me, darlin’!”

His voice was muffled by the wind around them, (Y/N) grinning to herself and softly chuckling as she paused at the door of the building. She hugs herself as she looks back to Arthur stomping through the snow after her, her expression softening with exhaustion and fondness as she turns and heads inside, the man still hollering after her— though his tone was distinctly more playful than before.

Chapter Text

The wind whistles through the tall pine trees acting as a cover for the mining camp Colter, the camp itself protecting those inside that had sought refuge against the storm and their pursuers. The winds had calmed somewhat but still flurried with snowflakes that stung like needles, the cold lingering in the air like shards of glass with each intake of breath.

That woman. Stubborn and headstrong almost to a fault. Ran off alone because of little John Marston getting himself into a mess that someone had to clean up yet again. I just wish it hadn't been her to do so. She always has to help others and always seems to tempt fate.

There was an air of comfortable silence in the room of (Y/N) and Arthur, both focused on their own things and at ease enough to not need unnecessary chatter. (Y/N) was currently sitting leaning back in a small, wooden chair at the vanity of their shared room, her attention fixated on her pistol as she gently wiped at it with the remaining gun oil she had stashed in her few belongings she managed to grab before they had been forced to flee.

Yet, somehow, she always makes it back to me. Her fiery spirit burns bright even in the cold hell we’re in, like a warm candlelight shining through the darkness.

Arthur sits on the bed hunched over, his thick eyebrows furrowed deeply in thought as his eyes flick along the pages of his worn, trusty journal. His hand moves quickly as he writes in a beautiful, cursive font, his jaw slightly tensed— not with anger or annoyance, but simply with focus.

We found shelter and been… resting here in some old abandoned mining town while we wait the thaw… Hardly the spring I had been hoping for, but sharing this space with (Y/N) makes it more bearable. 

Arthur’s eyes shift to the left hand page of his journal, a quick sketch of (Y/N) currently sitting at the vanity holding her pistol up decorating the page. His features soften as he looks from the drawing to the actual woman, (Y/N) distracted with carefully wiping underneath the trigger of her pistol. His gaze returns to his journal as he scribbles down a few more words, his eyes flicking along the page for a moment before he nods to himself.

The man sighs deeply as he closes his journal, a stifled grunt of discomfort leaving him as he straightens his posture while rolling his shoulders back. His eyes fall shut as he slowly angles his head to the side, earning a satisfying pop as he lets out a deep exhale of relief. As his eyes flick open once more, he’s greeted by the sight of (Y/N) staring at him intensely, the man a bit startled, since she had been just occupied with her pistol.

“Yes?” Arthur questions gruffly, keeping his eyes on her as he quirks a brow, his hands tucking his leather journal and charcoal pencil away into his satchel.

(Y/N)’s eyes flick down as she watches the movement, her gaze then shifting back to meet his own. “You been warm enough at night?” she questions, leaning slightly back in her chair. “Noticed you were shivering a bit last night.” 

Arthur’s expression softens slightly as his brow furrows, his eyes shifting down to the spot he had deemed as his temporary ‘bed’ as (Y/N) continues.

“And sleepin’ on the floor against the wall cannot be good for your back and neck,” she continues with a frown, motioning with the empty tube of gun oil to Arthur pointedly. 

He leans back partially, sighing deeply through his nose. “Been just fine, darlin’.”

The words sounded hollow even to him. Truthfully, it’s been hell. His neck felt stiff despite the temporary relief he felt after cracking it, his tailbone sore and the chill burying deep into his bones during the night. 

“I don’t believe you,” (Y/N) bluntly replies, earning a sigh from Arthur as he rises to go over his gear. 

Her eyes follow him as he walks past her to rummage through the crate they were using for some of their belongings, the woman setting down the empty tube of gun oil. 

“You know, we can share the bed. I don’t mind,” she casually mentions, her gaze averting to the vanity as her fingers flex slightly on her lap, betraying her nerves. “Used to do it all the time.”

Arthur’s shoulders stiffen at her words, the man lowered down and his back to her as his hand grasps a worn, almost-empty box of bullets for his pistol. His eyes were owlish as he swallowed thickly, warmth creeping up into his cheeks as he clears his throat. While it was true that they shared a bed or sleeping roll more than once in their teen years, the thought of doing it now made his heart race and his blood sing. 

His jaw ticks as he quickly shakes his head while squeezing his eyes shut, mentally scolding himself for his foolish thoughts. The man stuffs the worn box of ammo into his satchel with more force than necessary as he rises, his eyes fixated on his fingers adjusting his glove despite the fact it had been fine before.

“I’m fine,” he manages out, his voice rougher than normal as he winces and clears his throat once more. 

(Y/N) stares at Arthur blankly as his gaze pointedly remains averted, the woman sighing and rolling her eyes as she silently mocks him while tilting her head back and forth briefly. 

“Sure you are,” (Y/N) dryly mumbles, setting her pistol down before reaching for her satchel and pulling out a tin of peaches, along with her hunting knife. “At least eat somethin’ before we head out for the day, please. Don’t need you killing over from hunger on top of bein’ exhausted.”

Arthur’s eyes shift to watch her as she expertly saws through half of the lid of the can, her hand setting the knife down. She grips the lifted lid, peeling it back and cracking it off, her attention turning to Arthur as she offers the can towards him with an expectant tilt of her head. 

Arthur considers it for a moment before his expression softens, the man nodding and stepping closer as he gently tugs off his right-hand glove. “Thanks.”

(Y/N)’s lips curve up in a gentle smile, her eyes softening as she nods her head wordlessly in response. She rises as she makes her way towards the bed, the woman beckoning him over with a tilt of her head as she lowers to sit down, leaving room beside her. Arthur follows her over as she removes her own glove, the two caught in a comfortable silence that’s occasionally disturbed by a strong gust of wind outside as they take turns taking a few slices of the peaches inside the can. 

“God, I miss warm food,” (Y/N) comments wistfully after a few moments, the woman tilting her head back as she pops a couple of peach slices into her mouth. “Don’t get me wrong,” she starts, pausing to chew her food and swallowing with a sigh. “I’m grateful we have any at all, just…” she trails off.

“I know what’chu mean,” Arthur agrees, shifting his weight on the bed as he motions with his hand for her to eat the remaining peaches left inside the can. “Pearson may be a terrible cook, but his stew’d be preferable— ‘specially in this weather.” 

(Y/N) hesitates as she looks down at the remaining slices of peaches, knowing full well Arthur wasn’t eating enough to make sure she was taken care of. Her eyes shift to the man as she feels a tinge of guilt, Arthur feeling her gaze on him as he works on slipping his glove back on. 

Eyeing her from the corner of his eye as he begins to slide on his glove, his brows raise partially. He wordlessly juts his chin to the can of peaches, a wordless demand for her to eat, as the man seemed to know exactly what she was thinking without her even voicing it. (Y/N) huffs softly through her nose at this, her eyes squinting playfully as she returns her attention to the can of peaches, only a small handful remaining. Arthur watches her closely with relief as she eats the remaining peaches, satisfaction crossing his features as he rises with a deep sigh.

“Better go on and check in on everyone,” he says as he adjusts his gun belt, his hand lifting as he adjusts the brim of his hat. “Make sure the guys ain’t kill each other in that tight-knit space.” He looks to her with a half-grin, a rare playfulness shining in his eyes. 

(Y/N) lets out a scoff of laughter as she smiles with amusement, the woman rising as well as she sets the empty can aside on the nightstand nearby. “Yeah. I’ll go and check in on everyone else. I wanna make sure Mrs. Adler’s… doing somewhat okay, all things considered.” 

Her features soften with sympathy as she thinks about the newly widowed woman, Arthur nodding grimly in agreement. (Y/N) swipes her pistol from the vanity and tucks it away in the holster at her hip, then she turns and makes her way towards the shut door of their bedroom. Arthur allows her to take the lead and follows, the sound of voices able to be heard as (Y/N) opens the worn, wooden door— Hosea and Dutch’s. 

“So, what now, Dutch?” Hosea questions, uncertainty evident in his tone.

Dutch hesitates for a moment. “We get strong. We get warm… and we wait. When the storm breaks, we move.” His voice sounds certain and confident. “But we’re safe here, and warm enough.”

(Y/N) glances back to Arthur over her shoulder as she hesitates, the man shrugging a lazy shoulder and nodding for her to continue out despite the men speaking with one another in the living area. She nods in return as she heads out, spotting Dutch and Hosea sitting in wooden chairs side by side facing the lit fireplace.

She nods with a greeting smile to both Dutch and Hosea, a soft exhale leaving her at the faint, but noticeable temperature difference in the room thanks to the fireplace. Hosea’s expression eases at the sight of her as he faintly smiles in return with his own nod, his eyes shifting back to Dutch.

“I guess,” he quietly replies.

Dutch lifts his fingerless gloved hands to the fire to warm them and notices movement and spots (Y/N) and Arthur, the man nodding to them before pausing as he processes Hosea’s response. He leans back partially in the chair as he regards Hosea, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You sound doubtful,” Dutch slowly points out, the barest hint of hurt and apprehension in his words.

Hosea grimaces slightly. “Not… doubtful,” he carefully assures, sighing as he rests his hands on his knees. “Just worried.”

Dutch clicks his tongue softly at this as he nods briefly, his eyes shifting to (Y/N) and Arthur as he notices the two making their way out. 

“What do you two think?” he calls with an air of authority before (Y/N) could push the door open, making them both pause. 

Arthur’s eyes flick to (Y/N)’s before he turns to face Dutch, a deep breath leaving him as he lightly tugs up his gun belt. (Y/N) lowers her hand away from the door as Arthur steps a few paces closer to the men, her eyes flicking to the door, then to Arthur as she shuffles alongside him.

“Well, we weren’t on that boat, so… hard to say.” Arthur shakes his head, then adding without hesitation, “But we trust your judgement, Dutch. Always have.”

(Y/N) nods in agreement, offering the men a small, hopeful smile. “Things are… rough now, but I’m sure you two will get us out of this,” she assures, her confidence in both men shining through.

Dutch’s tensed jaw eases, his brow unfurrowing as a look of pride enters his eyes. “Thank you, son. Thank you, my dear.” He turns his head back to Hosea. “We have been shot at before, Hosea,” he lowly speaks, scoffing softly. “I don’t feel that this is honestly anything new.”

Hosea’s gaze shifts down towards the fire, his forehead wrinkle. “I hope not.”

(Y/N)’s brow furrows partially with concern at the weary, doubtfulness in Hosea, the woman feeling unease slowly creeping into her thoughts. The man was known to be a worrywart, but this time, it felt… different. Like he truly believed they were all damned. She shakes her head to herself to clear her thoughts, chalking it up to Hosea just being anxious being this far into the unfamiliar territory of the East.

“We had a bit of bad luck,” Dutch acknowledges, pulling out a cigar from the pocket of his dark, wooly coat. “But then the storm covered our tracks, so now we wait a bit, and we go back to Blackwater and we get our money. They don’t even know we dumped it. Or, we get some more money and we keep heading west.”

Hosea scoffs quietly, shaking his head as he looks to Dutch. “But we’re heading east .”

“For now…” Dutch promises with a slow nod, a determined glint in his eye as he lights his cigar. “For now,” he repeats with assurance, a smirk crossing his face. “We got this. We’re safe.” He emphasizes this by pointing to the floor firmly, rising while inhaling a puff of his cigar. His dark eyes move to (Y/N) and Arthur, who hadn’t moved yet, the man exhaling the smoke deeply. “Thank you both. For your strength. It means a lot to me.”

Arthur nods. “Of course, Dutch.”

(Y/N) tilts her head as she smiles faintly. “We’ll get through this,” she softly speaks, hoping her own words of reassurance help Hosea.

Dutch smiles with warmth in his eyes as he regards the two, turning and taking a step before pausing, seeming to recall something. “Hosea, one other thing,” he calls, causing the man to look up from the fireplace. “When you get a chance, send someone down the track back to that farmhouse.”

Hosea slowly nods, his brow furrowing slightly with visible intrigue. “Okay…” he confirms slowly. “Why?”

Dutch’s features soften with sympathy as he sighs deeply, lowering his cigar as a small trail of smoke travels upward to the ceiling. “That poor woman’s husband needs burying.”

(Y/N) looks up at this, her lips curving down in a frown as Arthur’s eyes darken grimly.

“Of course,” Hosea replies with understanding. “I— Is it safe down there?” he questions, referring to the O’Driscolls. 

Dutch grumbles softly, exhaling smoke from his cigar. “Just… send someone sensible.” 

“Understood,” Hosea assures, watching as Dutch turns and makes his way to his own room adjacent to Arthur and (Y/N)'s.

Dutch pushes the door to his room open, Molly inside looking over her makeup as the man steps in, shutting the door behind him.

“I can go,” (Y/N) offers after a moment, gaining Hosea and Arthur’s attention. “To the farmhouse, I mean.”

Hosea sighs wearily before managing a kind smile, shaking his head slightly. “That’s alright, my dear.” The term of endearment is familiar, something the man’s always called her. “I’m sure you and Arthur both have a lot on your plate right now. You’re both more needed here,” he insists, rubbing the side of his neck as he leans back in his seat. “I’ll send Lenny out sometime soon.”

“Kid’ll do it properly,” Arthur approves with a nod, turning to (Y/N) as his hand reaches out to gently grasp her shoulder. His eyes shift to Hosea and he frowns, noticing how worried and guilt-ridden he seemed. “We weren’t there , Hosea,” he assures.

Hosea’s eyes narrow at this, his jaw tensing. “I’m aware of that,” he reluctantly says, shaking his head as he glares downward. “And they shouldn’t have been either,” he continues, keeping his voice lowered to avoid riling Dutch up.

“I agree,” (Y/N) chimes in before sighing, frowning as her hand reaches up to gently rest on Arthur’s over her shoulder. “Us three had a plan, and, well…” She stifles another sigh, shaking her head. “What’s done is done. Might not like what happened, but we can’t change it now. All we can do is keep our heads up and get through each day.”

Arthur’s eyes shift to (Y/N), feeling both a flicker of pride at her strength and resilience and even hope inspired by her. Hosea’s shoulders slowly relax as he takes in her words, the older man steadily exhaling as he straightens up in his chair.

“You’re right,” he quietly agrees, letting out a weary chuckle.

(Y/N) knew her words could only do so much to assure the man, but she hoped that they helped to ease some of his worries. She turns to Arthur as he squeezes her shoulder and nods to the door, his hand lowering and the two making their way out to go check on the others. 

“See you later, Hosea,” she calls softly over her shoulder, walking alongside Arthur out the door.

“Of course, dear girl,” Hosea warmly responds, a soft smile forming on his face.

He looks back and watches the two’s departure, his smile slowly waning with exhaustion and uncertainty after the two step out. He sighs softly as he turns back to the fireplace, his forearms lowering to rest on his knees as he slouches over. 

-

Outside, (Y/N) groans quietly through clenched teeth at the weather, her coat seeming to do little against the bite of the frost in the air. The sky above was gray with the early morning light and snowflakes whipped around the two as they made their way away from the doorway, Arthur grunting softly with annoyance at the cold as he rubs his gloved hands together.

“Go on in and check with the others. Get warm,” Arthur urges gently, nodding his head towards the church. “I’ll come get ya if anything needs doin’.” 

(Y/N) nods in agreement, taking a step out onto the snow. “Okay—”

Arthur’s hand shoots out to gently catch her arm before she could make another step, (Y/N) pausing as she looks back with confusion and concern.

“And you better do the same, little lady,” he continued lowly, his tone holding a gentle sternness as he teases her with the pet name. “Don’t go running off on your own now, you hear?”

(Y/N) blinks slowly with surprise for a moment before her features soften, the woman recognizing his concern hidden behind his gruff words. She sighs deeply and dramatically as Arthur’s brow arches slightly, (Y/N) nodding her head.

“Okay, okay,” she reassures lightheartedly. “I won’t go off alone.” She lifts her hand, her other resting on her heart. “I promise.”

Arthur hums quietly at this as his eyes narrow, the man regarding her for a moment. Slowly, his grip loosens on her arm before he releases it completely, Arthur seeming to be satisfied by her promise.

“Good.” 

(Y/N) smiles faintly as she reaches up, playfully batting the brim of his hat, a familiar gesture. A snort of surprised laughter leaves her as she unintentionally smacks it off completely, Arthur letting out a surprised ‘Hey!’ of protest as his hat plops onto the ground silently. He looks down at his hat before glancing back up, jostling slightly as he realizes she had rushed away through the left-hand path in the snow, her laughter faintly heard over the wind.

“Still doin’ that same old shit!” he calls after her with mock annoyance, unable to hide his amusement as his eyes crinkle slightly.

Smirking softly to himself, Arthur shakes his head with fond exasperation as he squats down and picks his hat back up, shaking some snow off it. Rising fully as he sets his hat back properly on his head, his gaze lingers on her as she makes her way into the church, and only after she’s inside safe does he continue on his own way down the right-hand path.

-

(Y/N) was unable to stop smiling as she made her way to the church, sighing softly with amusement as she stepped up along the old, wooden steps of the building. Arthur always seemed to have a way of making her heart feel warmed, even in this icy storm. As soon as she pushed the door open gently, her ears were greeted by the sound of sobbing, her features instantly falling with sympathy as her eyes flick to the source.

Sadie sat to the left on a bench, the woman bundled up in fresh clothing that had belonged to Mary-Beth and the other women no doubt. She wore a white collared puff shirt hidden under a dark, wood-brown colored jacket, her hands covered in dark gloves and the woman also wearing a long, navy blue skirt. Her form was hunched over and her shoulder wracked with her sobbing, her breathing uneven and sharp as she held a clenched fist to her mouth. 

Mary-Beth sat alongside her, her eyebrows furrowed with sadness as she gingerly set her hand on Sadie’s back, her other hand grasping her arm to gain her attention.

“It’s okay,” Mary-Beth softly assures, her voice kind and gentle as always. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes linger on Sadie before she looks around the building, taking note of the others and their morale. There was a heavy sense of uncertainty and fear she could detect, judging by most of their expressions, the room somewhat warm thanks to the fireplace, but not by much. 

Tilly sat near the fireplace hunched over with a distant look in her eyes as Jack sits on the floor near her, Susan sitting in a chair to her left against the wall with one leg crossed over the other. Karen sat beside Mary-Beth, Uncle hovering near the fireplace for warmth as he subtly watched Sadie from the corner of his eye with concern. Leopald sat alone as he looked through a book, Orville sitting nearby with his Bible opened, the man mouthing words to himself as he read from the text.

(Y/N) steps inside fully as she gently shuts the door, gaining some of their attention with the sound. Sadie glances up as she tenses, but she seems to relax partially as she sees it was only (Y/N). Her cheeks were stained with her tears and flushed pink, her eyes reddened from crying and heavy bags under them. 

“Morning, Mrs. Adler,” (Y/N) greets with a kind smile, keeping her voice soft— as if she were speaking to a spooked animal— as she approaches slowly. “You feeling okay?” She grimaces almost instantly as the question leaves her, full-well knowing the answer. “I— I meant… was your first night… well-enough?”

(Y/N) clears her throat as she rubs the side of her neck, Sadie’s eyes shifting downward as she swallows thickly, remaining silent. Mary-Beth exhales through her nose with a hint of amusement at (Y/N)’s awkward words, knowing the woman’s concern and kindness was genuine. 

“She’ll be okay, (Y/N),” she replies confidently as she nods. 

(Y/N) slowly nods as her expression softens sympathetically, her arm lowering. “Right.” She sighs quietly, hesitating before stepping closer.

Sadie looks up with surprise and a hint of uncertainty as (Y/N) lowers down in a squat before her, (Y/N) tilting her head slightly to catch her eye as she offers the devastated woman another faint smile.

“I know… that it might not feel like it right now, but you’re safe here with us,” (Y/N) speaks earnestly and soothingly, her tone absolute as she nods her head. “Take all the time you need. Anyone here bother you, just let me know.”

Sadie’s eyes were glossy as she tentatively peered up through her lashes at (Y/N), her form tensed up. Her shoulders begin to tremble as fresh tears slowly roll down her cheeks, her eyes averting down to her lap as her gloved hands tightly grip her knees. Some of her dirty blond hair falls into her face, the woman letting out a soft sob.

“Thank you…” 

The words were quiet and hoarse, but (Y/N) could faintly hear them, her eyes softening as she slowly rose from her squatting position. Mary-Beth gently pats Sadie’s back in comfort, (Y/N) nodding to the woman before she backs away slowly. Her attention is drawn to John when she hears the sound of his groan of pain, Abigail currently fussing over the bedridden man as she adjusts his blanket.

“Eaten by wolves…” Abigail mutters under her breath, huffing with disbelief as she smooths out the blanket evenly. “Never heard such a ridiculous idea.”

(Y/N) frowns with concern as she looks over John’s form, approaching as her boots softly thump on the worn wood beneath them. Abigail grabs a chair and aggressively yanks it closer, the woman plopping down in it.

“Who gets themselves eaten by wolves?!” she demands in a strained tone that masks her worry, lifting her hands in a frustrated motion as she scowls down at John. “I mean really, who ?”

John sighs deeply at her griping, the man’s face bandaged partially and a bandage wrapped fully around his head. His hands rest on his stomach over the blanket, his head propped up by a thin, spare blanket acting as a pillow. 

“I didn’t mean to, Abigail,” John replies, his tone holding both sarcasm and annoyance. 

(Y/N) steps closer, sensing the growing tension as she softly chuckles. 

“Should’ve at least got them wolves to cut that mop you call hair,” she comments playfully and teasingly, stopping to stand beside where Abigail sat as her hand rests on the back of it. “Would’ve done us all a favor.” 

John’s eye not obscured by the bandage shifts to her with surprise at her appearance, his features softening at the sight of his older-sister figure checking in on him. However, in a true little brother fashion, he couldn’t let her think he was grateful or happy about it. 

He rolls his good eye with a scoff. “Shut up,” he grumbles sheepishly. “It ain’t that bad.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” (Y/N) replies without missing a beat, her eyes landing on the sight of his wild, untamed shoulder-length hair splayed beneath his head. 

“I agree,” Abigail mumbles lightly, earning an exasperated sigh from John as he frowns. 

(Y/N) shifts her weight on her feet, her hand lifting from the chair to Abigail’s shoulder as she squeezes it reassuringly.

“Go easy on him,” she urges gently, causing Abigail’s gaze to shift up to her and soften slightly. “You know he ain’t mean for this to happen.”

Abigail looks away as her expression tightens, lingering fear that she could’ve lost John and anger coursing through her all at once. 

“He never means to,” Abigail quietly replies, her hands reaching out as she tentatively rests them on John’s arm closest to her. “But he always does.” One of her hands lifts from his arm, her hand caressing the top of his head tenderly. “Always… trouble,” she adds, trying to sound stern and annoyed, though her tone was more loving than anything.

John seems to shy away at her touch as his gaze averts away, the man grumbling lightly.

“Well.” He inhales deeply, his eye returning to Abigail. “I’ve certainly… made my mistakes.” 

(Y/N) grimaces with surprise at the bitterness in John’s words, her gaze flicking to Abigail as she notices the woman freeze. Abigail slowly withdraws her hand that had been hovering near his head, hurt flashing across her features before she masks it with anger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands carefully, her tone even.

John scoffs quietly. “Whatever you want it to,” he bluntly replies, his voice raised a bit.

(Y/N) shifts a small step back as she looks to Abigail with a wince, knowing she shouldn’t insert herself into the argument of the two— even if part of her did want to swat John upside the good part of his head. 

Abigail inhales sharply, her nose scrunching up as she yanks her hand off his arm. She lifts a firm finger, gesturing in his face. 

“You are an annoying man, John Marston!” she scolds, her tone sharp as the dagger at (Y/N)’s side to mask her pain. “You—” She sputters with disbelief, sighing. “You just shut up and get some rest.”

Despite her visible anger, Abigail allows her hands to rest on John’s arm once more. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, her eyes lingering on his face as the man sighs with annoyance and closes his eye to rest. (Y/N) frowns as she watches the two, stepping closer and lightly rubbing Abigail’s back in silent comfort and assurance. She knew John was often surly and short with Abigail, and while Abigail tried to hide how much it affected her, there was a sadness in her eyes behind the thunder in them.

“Keep warm, all of you!” the voice of Susan strongly speaks, as if she’d sensed the low morale, (Y/N) glancing back as she slowly removes her hand from Abigail. “Keep warm. Just a few more days and we’ll get off this hill.”

(Y/N) turns as she listens to the older woman, nodding along in agreement as her hands lower to rest on her gun belt comfortably. 

“I hope so,” Tilly replies as she shivers, scooting closer to the fire.

“We will, Tilly,” (Y/N) calls reassuringly, making the woman look back over her shoulder. “We gotta keep our heads up.” 

Susan nods firmly in agreement as she looks to (Y/N) confidently, the woman rising. “Yes!” she agrees, looking around. “Keep strong, all of you. Like Miss (L/N) here.” She motions to the woman with her hand.

Tilly sighs softly as she looks back to the fire, doubt creeping into her features. “It’s been a nasty few days…” 

“I know,” Susan assures in a light tone, adjusting her thick, fur coat slightly. “And we’ve had tough times before,” she points out with encouragement, looking around the room. “We keep moving and we keep together. Same as always. All of you!”

(Y/N) nods her head slightly in agreement as she smiles, Susan always standing strong against all odds. She was sharp-tongued and meaner than a wild cat, but deep down, (Y/N) knew that the older woman cared deeply for everyone in the gang— especially the ladies, even if she did have a hard time showing it. 

The door to the church was pushed open, (Y/N) instinctively straightening up at the sight of Dutch searching around inside with quick, sharp eyes. 

His eyes land on her, his features lighting up. “Ah! There you are!” he exclaims boisterously, motioning with his hand for her to approach. “Come along, my girl! Time’s wasting!”

(Y/N) blinks owlishly as she obeys, her footsteps quick as she approaches where Dutch waited. Dutch nods to Susan as the woman lowers to sit back down, his gaze shifting and lingering on Sadie sympathetically, knowing full-well the anguish of losing a loved one to the O’Driscolls. He holds the door open using his back for (Y/N) as she steps out, the man stepping out with her as the door swings shut with a loud clang.

“We goin’ somewhere?” (Y/N) questions with confusion and concern, noticing the horses all hitched up near Pearson’s little setup not too far from them.

“Oh-ho,” Dutch chuckles out fondly, quickly making his way through the snow towards the men’s lodge as she follows. “You bet. Old friends are in need of a visit.”

Realization clicks as (Y/N)’s jaw clenches slightly, the woman now knowing that he intends on hitting the camp that the O’Driscoll told them about back in the barn. She trails after Dutch closely like a shadow, his tall frame helping to block some of the icy wind as they approach the lodge. As they draw close, both instantly tense at the sound of roughhousing inside, Dutch’s eyes narrowing as he steps forward and slams the door open. (Y/N) peers around him with worry, the men inside seeming to not even notice them in the commotion.

“— Maybe I don’t feel like being laughed at by the likes of you two!” Micah snarls, his voice like venom as he motions to Lenny and Bill.

Before him, Lenny and Arthur were on either side of Bill, both holding the burly man back from lunging at Micah. Bill’s broad chest heaves with anger, a visible red mark on his cheek from where he’d been struck by Micah just moments before.

“Stop it!” Dutch’s voice was like thunder, startling the men inside. “Now!”

Arthur’s eyes snap to Dutch as he holds a lit cigarette between his lips, his gaze almost instantly drawn to where (Y/N) was peering inside, her gaze already on him and her brow arching in silent question. He feels heat creeping up his neck, the man clearing his throat as he releases Bill. Bill straightens up as Lenny releases him as well, Bill scowling darkly towards Micah before turning his attention to Dutch. Javier, who had been silent and out of the fray, straightens as well, the man dusting snow off his poncho— as he’d just been outside on guard duty. 

“You fools punching each other when Colm O’Driscoll’s needing punching,” Dutch continues in a scolding manner, disapproval evident in his features as he lifts a fist for emphasis. “Hard!” he adds, scoffing as he looks around at the men. “You wanna sit around waiting for him to come find us?”

Arthur shoulders past Micah roughly as he makes his way towards the door, brushing past Dutch as he steps outside where (Y/N) was standing. She visibly perks up at the sight of him as Arthur lowers his cigarette and exhales smoke, the man turning away to avoid blowing it her direction. He drops the cigarette into the snow, the icy powder instantly putting it out as he kicks some onto it gently.

“All of you!” Dutch motions for the men to come out sternly. “We got work to do. Come on.”

Arthur turns to Dutch as the man steps out, his brow furrowed in apprehension. “Are you sure about this, Dutch?” he questions. 

“Yes,” Dutch answers without missing a beat. 

(Y/N) shifts through the snow to stand closer to Arthur as the men inside the lodge file out, heading towards where their horses are hitched up.

“Folks been through a lot recently,” Arthur protests with apprehension. “We hardly back on our feet yet.”

(Y/N) nods slightly in agreement, her gaze flicking to the men. There was a weariness to all of their weathered features, and she knew they were no doubt not getting much sleep in such tight quarters and with the cold. 

“And the last thing we need is to get bushwhacked by Colm O’Driscoll,” Dutch firmly replies to Arthur, reaching out to pat his shoulder reassuringly. “Let’s go— the both of you.” 

(Y/N) looks to Arthur as Dutch takes the lead, his legs lifting high as he stomps through the shin-deep snow towards the horses.

“Dutch, I really don’t think we should be doin’ this,” (Y/N) says with uncertainty as she walks alongside Arthur, shaking her head. “Colm’s got no way of knowing we’re even out here. We could just leave it alone.” 

Dutch frowns at this. “He’s here for us,” he insists.

Arthur’s brow furrows slightly, the man shaking his head as he lets out a scoff. “I doubt that.”

“No, you’re both just doubting me ,” Dutch pointedly responds, approaching his horse hitched up beside Arthur’s. 

(Y/N)’s shoulders tense at the accusation as Arthur bristles, his gaze hardening as he watches Dutch unholster a rifle from the saddle of The Count. The other men begin to saddle up, not noticing the small argument between the three as they do so. 

“We would never doubt you Dutch,” Arthur firmly and steadily speaks with rising anger, his eyes shifting to (Y/N), then back to the man. “You—” He hesitates, exhaling sharply. “You always said revenge is a luxury we can’t afford.”

(Y/N) nods, her brows furrowed with worry and her expression tense. “I just don’t want anything to come of this before we’re ready to handle it,” she explains rationally, her voice gentle and light, not accusing. 

Dutch looks between Arthur and (Y/N), his gaze softening after a moment and focusing on (Y/N) as he lets out a sigh. “This is the right call, (Y/N),” he assures, holding out the rifle to her. “Take this.” 

(Y/N) hesitates before sighing quietly through her nose with defeat, her hands reaching out to grab hold of the rifle. It was a simple, worn Repeater rifle, and matched the one currently holstered on Arthur’s current horse. 

“And this is about more than revenge for business long ago,” Dutch continues, his words directed at Arthur as he grabs two lassos from his horse’s saddle, offering them to both Arthur and (Y/N). “They were talking about trains and detonators . Here.”

(Y/N) slides the strap of the rifle over her shoulder as she is passed a lasso, the woman feeling grateful as she looks down at the sturdy rope. Much of her gear and Arthur’s had been lost due to them having to flee Blackwater so quickly, including a majority of their weapons and their lassos. Arthur looks over his own lasso and tests the rope, nodding to himself as he secures it at his side.

“Colm always had good information,” Dutch mentions confidently, shifting as he nods to Arthur’s horse and Taima. “Come on. Already asked Mr. Smith and he’s fine with you using his horse again, (Y/N).” 

“Oh.” (Y/N) glances over to Simon’s setup, spotting Charles sitting and keeping watch alone. “Okay…” 

She glances to Arthur with uncertainty as she makes her way around his horse to Taima, the animal softly snorting at the sight of her. Arthur catches her look and feels a tightening in his chest that feels much like protectiveness, the man feeling apprehensive himself about the situation as he approaches his horse.

“And you think now is the right time to hit a train?” he questions, sliding his foot into the stirrup before pulling himself up onto his horse with familiar ease.

Dutch snorts under his breath, mounting up as well. “Now you might fancy living on deer piss and rabbit shit…” he sarcastically says, shaking his head as he settles his weight on The Count. “But I’m getting too old for that life.”

(Y/N) can’t help but softly chortle under her breath, earning a half-hearted glare from Arthur as he grumbles quietly. She grins innocently as she bats her lashes at him, causing the man to roll his eyes lightly as she guides Taima into turning around carefully. 

“Mr. Matthews!” Dutch calls strongly, spotting the man heading towards the church. “Mr. Smith, Mr. Pearson,” he lists off, gaining their attention. 

Hosea looks over before pausing with his hand on the door, his brow furrowing deeply with a hint of anger and apprehension at the sight of them all mounted up. Charles glances over with Simon, both men listening with rapt attention.

“Would you please look after the place? There are O’Driscolls about!” Dutch exclaims as he lifts a finger to and fro, spitting the word ‘ O’Driscoll ’ out as though it were a curse.

With that, Dutch turns The Count before letting out a cry, kicking his heels into the horse’s sides as he flicks the reins. The Count neighs as he kicks off in a sprint, followed quickly by Arthur and (Y/N), Arthur to his right and (Y/N) to his left on either side of him. Javier, Bill, Micah and Lenny trail after them closely, split into two, orderly rows. 

“Southwest, right?” Dutch calls over his shoulder. 

(Y/N) nods, though she knows he wasn’t looking at her. “Yep— he said they were by some lake southwest. If we follow the main trail, we should find it!” 

Her hands gently grasp Taima’s reins as she guides the horse after Dutch, Bill and Lenny trailing after her and Javier and Micah behind Arthur.

“Okay. Let’s go find these bastards before they find us, and rob this score they’re planning!” Dutch growls out confidently, his words strong. 

With that, the group continues down the path through the thick snow, their horses galloping as occasional whinnies and snorts could be heard from the mighty beasts. The wind was loud as it raged on around them, the wind blasting snowflakes against their backsides and drenching their clothing in the icy substance. The group guide their horses down the path that follows along the stream, the water flowing steadily with ice and chunks of snow floating along the surface. Crossing the stream, they ride for a few more moments down a slanted hill, Dutch slowing his horse to a trot— prompting the others to do the same instinctively. 

“What’s that?” Dutch questions, gazing over the side of The Count to the snow-covered ground with narrowed eyes. 

Arthur slows as well on the other side of Dutch, but him and (Y/N) looking down as Dutch motions to the ground. Their eyes scan along the disturbances in the snow, multiple rows of tracks leading off in the direction they were currently heading in.

“Tracks… horses— quite a few of ‘em,” Dutch informs, nodding his head. 

The tracks continue down the road in an unorganized fashion, Dutch letting out a contemplative grunt under his breath.

“Far as I can tell, the only fools out here are us and them,” he states bluntly, his head jerking to the side as his dark eyes follow the tracks. “They must be this way.” 

Dutch doesn’t spur his horse back into a gallop right away, instead allowing the animal a moment of rest by trotting through the snow instead. (Y/N) rides along at his left, Arthur at his right and the men still loyally following behind. The wind had calmed down somewhat, a shimmer of sunlight cutting through the dark clouds above and shining through the tall pine trees along the path, snow gently raining down around them.

Noticing Dutch’s tension, Arthur clears his throat gruffly before calling to him, “You good, Dutch?”

“Of course!” Dutch answers without hesitance in a lighthearted manner, sighing dramatically. “Listen, I know you and (Y/N) don’t think much of my ideas recently, but this is the right move.” 

(Y/N), who’d been overhearing, clicks her tongue in disapproval. “Aw, now, that ain’t fair,” she drawls as she guides Taima closer, steadying the horse. “You know no matter what, we’ve got your back, Dutch.”

“Always,” Arthur readily agrees, nodding at the sentiment. 

Dutch’s eyes cast downward, the man sighing deeply. “I learned a long time ago that you hit Colm O’Driscoll,” he states bitterly, shaking his head as a pained expression crosses his features. “ Wait for him… and people you love will die.”

Arthur sighs deeply with a hint of exasperation, (Y/N) glancing to Dutch from the corner of her eye with sympathy and understanding.

“This feud between you and him…” Arthur starts, shaking his head as he looks ahead. “Needs to be put to rest, one way or another.” 

Bill, overhearing, lets out a snort, hollering, “It will be!” 

Dutch’s grip tightens on the reins of The Count, the man’s jaw clenching tightly as he urges the horse into a gallop once more, prompting those following to do the same. 

“Some things I can forgive. Others I can forget,” he starts in a weary tone, which instantly hardens to one of malice and animosity as he continues, “What he did to Anabelle…” His voice wavers with emotion. “I can’t do neither.” 

(Y/N) understood full-well the depth of Dutch’s pain and hatred for the man who took the life of his beloved, Anabelle. It felt like another lifetime ago when she’d been around, and (Y/N) could hardly remember the kind-faced, motherly woman. Anabelle was as sweet as she was spirited and strong, the woman always having a way to keep even Dutch himself in line. After her murder, she wasn’t sure if Dutch would ever bounce back. Part of her wondered still if he had fully. 

“You killed his brother , Dutch!” Arthur reminds the man pointedly, bringing (Y/N) from her thoughts as she looks over. 

That event had been the catalyst that started the feud of hatred between the two once-friends all those years ago, Dutch having killed Colm O’Driscoll’s brother to begin with. The reason was still unknown— (Y/N) only vaguely recalling Dutch claiming he had to do it. In retaliation, Colm took the life of Dutch’s lover. 

“Yes. I did,” Dutch growls back proudly in response to Arthur. “And I hope the bastards will be reunited soon enough. That’s how this’ll end.” 

“Damn right, boss!” Micah’s voice chimes in from somewhere in the back. 

Arthur scoffs derisively at this as he glances over to (Y/N) wordlessly, his expression one of mild frustration and apprehension. Feeling his eyes on her, she looks over while turning her head partially, a sigh leaving her as she only subtly shakes her head for him to not push it further. She knew it would be pointless to try to talk Dutch out of this— if Hosea couldn’t, then no one could. Dutch was stubborn as he was clever, (Y/N) had learned long ago, along with Arthur. 

Shoulders slumping partially with defeat, Arthur only nods in return once, his gaze shifting ahead once more as he grinds his teeth unconsciously in deep thought. (Y/N) looks ahead as well, her eyes shifting to the ground in search of the tracks, only to see that they had all but been covered by the fresh snow coming in. However, Dutch doesn’t seem concerned, the man guiding The Count at the front up along the hillside and the path. 

“See that smoke?” Dutch calls in question, nodding up ahead. 

In the distance off the main path and up the slope of another hill, a bellow of smoke stretches up towards the sky. The smoke was still dark in color, indicating it had yet to be put out.

“Let’s cut up here and take a look,” Dutch urges, guiding The Count off the path. “You said it was near the lake, so we must be close.”

Some of the horses whinny softly in protest as they’re guided up the hill, the soft, untouched snow making it a bit difficult for them to truly get their footing. However, the animals pushed on strongly with some encouragement, hiking up the hill with the guidance of those who rode on top of their backs. The group slow their horses as they near the top of the hill, Dutch steering The Count to face the group of men. (Y/N) comes to a stop at his right and turns Taima to do the same, Arthur following suit on the other side of the man as well on his own horse. 

“Alright, gentlemen and lady, this is it,” Dutch starts with a deep, steadying sigh, nodding. His expression becomes determined, the man lifting his hands and clapping them a few times, the sound muffled by his gloves. “Are we goddamn ready?” he demands firmly with confidence. 

He was answered with a chorus of agreements from the men, (Y/N) nodding wordlessly with a hardened look, Arthur doing the very same. 

“Good,” Dutch praises. “Now. Mr. Morgan, Miss (L/N) and I…” He lifts a hand and gestures to the overlook behind him, continuing, “We’re gonna head up here a little. See if we can’t get a sense of the layout of the camp.” 

(Y/N) adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder with an extended exhale through her nose, the woman leaning to the side partially as she rummages through her satchel. Her features soften with ease as she finds her spare box of rifle ammo, knowing she’d no doubt need it for what was to come.

“Mr. Williamson, Mr. Bell,” Dutch lists off, nodding to the two men atop their horses. “You two take up a hidden position just outside the camp.”

Arthur grabs his own rifle and slides it on his shoulder, the man shifting his weight restlessly in the saddle of his horse as he glances around the area warily— ever the protective lookout. 

“Mr. Summers, Mr. Escuella,” Dutch continues, nodding to the two men as well. “You two hold position here.” 

Javier nods with a determined look at this, Lenny doing the same with a bit more boyish enthusiasm. 

Satisfied they had their roles, Dutch’s eyes shift through the men before he nods firmly.

“Let’s go,” he orders, dismounting The Count in a quick, smooth motion.

(Y/N) and Arthur follow suit, (Y/N) sliding off Taima’s saddle and stroking the side of the horse’s neck instinctively. This earns a soft, content nicker from her, (Y/N) smiling faintly before she follows after Dutch, catching up to walk alongside Arthur, who’d already dismounted and had been following. 

She was grateful the wind wasn’t as strong as before, the cold still nipping at her face, but more bearable. The three trudged through the snow up to the overlook, the snow reaching below her knees and slowing her movement a bit. A deep sigh leaves Arthur, (Y/N) glancing at the man with confusion as he shifts in front of her. The snow only reached his lower shin, the man grunting quietly as he dragged his feet through the snow, the action not deterring his walking speed as he makes a small path for her to follow. 

(Y/N) recognizes the action as one he’d done before just a few days ago, her features softening as she quickly catches up to walk directly behind him. 

“Thanks,” she says softly, feeling relieved now that the snow wasn’t pushing against her steps.

Arthur grunts quietly, and she thinks he won’t respond for a moment. 

“Don’t want you fallin’ behind is all,” Arthur sheepishly mumbled, as if to justify his actions, his voice quiet and only meant for her to hear.

A soft, amused scoff leaves her, her lips curving up in a delighted smile as she rolls her eyes to herself. He never has been good with receiving thanks, even if he was doing a genuine act of kindness. 

“Sure,” was all she replied, her tone light with a hint of fondness.

The three make it up to the overlook, Micah and Bill able to be seen making their way down towards the camp crouched and sneakily along the side of the hill. Dutch pulls out his binoculars as he lowers to kneel, Arthur following suit while taking out his own binoculars. (Y/N) simply squats down low instead, not wanting her knee to be dipped into the icy snow. 

She observes as Dutch and Arthur view the camp with their binoculars, the woman not owning a pair herself currently due to having to leave them being in Blackwater. She sighs to herself softly, feeling a mixture of annoyance and longing for the items she had to leave behind. Clothing, tools, her own stash of money. Her horse, who had perished while they’d been escaping along with Arthur’s own horse, Boadicea. Though, she was glad to still be alive, and she knew they could all be replaced eventually with time, the sting of losing her beloved companion still weighing heavily on her mind. 

As she’s lost in thought, Arthur peers through the binoculars held in his gloved hands, his eyes squinting slightly as he looks around. The camp was clearly inhabited, as there were horses hitched around in various places, the mining town decent in size with decaying buildings and a watch tower overlooking the place.

“There they are…” Dutch lowly mutters, his jaw tightening. “That’s definitely them.”

Arthur’s view lingers on a lean, average heighted man tending to a Tennessee Walker with a lovely flaxen roan coat, the O’Driscoll’s actions surprisingly gentle with the animal as he strokes the horse’s snowy white mane. A few feet from him stood a lone, riderless dark-coated horse, Arthur able to detect movement in the worn buildings of the camp.

“Do you see Colm?” (Y/N) questions quietly, keeping her voice down despite their distance from the camp. 

Dutch nods as he squints into the binoculars. “I think so.”

Arthur notices movement and shifts his binoculars to a man approaching the dark-coated horse, the man wearing noticeably nicer clothing than the two men on either side of him.

“Yeah… that’s him,” Arthur drawls lowly in agreement, lowering the binoculars before offering them to (Y/N).

(Y/N) perks up as she gingerly takes them, Arthur trying not to outwardly react as her fingers brush against her own— though his heart does stutter from the simple action, causing him to internally scold himself for being foolish once again. 

She doesn’t seem to notice his reaction, Arthur watching as she views through the lens of the binocular with narrowed eyes as she takes in the camp and the layout, seeming to already be plotting the best route and cover for them to take. She hums contemplatively to herself as she offers the binoculars back to the man with a grateful nod, Arthur nodding wordlessly in return as he resumes peering through them to watch Colm.

Colm shuffles through the snow towards his horse, his features barely visible from the distance through the lens. He pats his horse roughly on the neck, the man turning to bark something at one of his guards mounting up. Colm waves an arm in an agitated, beckoning manner towards the O’Driscoll Arthur had seen tending his horse.

The man scrambles over with haste, Colm mounting his horse and glaring down icily at the O’Driscoll before him. The two men converse— or seem to argue, Arthur unable to make out what either were saying, but noticing Colm seemed to grow more angered as the O’Driscoll back-talked to him.

“Who’s he talking to?” Dutch questions, scoffing softly under his breath. “He don’t seem very happy.”

As if to confirm his words, Colm’s hand suddenly shoots out, grasping the front of the O’Driscoll’s jacket and yanking him closer before slapping him across both cheeks in two quick motions. 

“No,” Arthur agrees with a quiet snort.

The O’Driscoll cowers fearfully as he is released and nods frantically, practically fleeing with his tail between his legs back to his horse.

“What’s going on?” (Y/N) questions, frowning as she looks down at the camp. 

“Looks like they’re leavin’,” Dutch informs her, his tone darkened and his frame tensed.

(Y/N)’s brows raise at this, a large part of her wondering what Colm was up to and why he would be leaving his men to the town like this.

Arthur glances over to Dutch briefly from the corner of his eye. “Should we go get ‘em?” he questions, ready to follow what Dutch decides despite his reservations. 

“No,” Dutch answers instantly with a calmer voice, much to his surprise and (Y/N)’s. “Colm can wait. Best to get some of them outta there.”

Arthur watches as the man who’d been slapped mounts his horse and spurs it into a trot down the path, Colm glaring icily at the O’Driscoll from atop his horse as he sighs and shakes his head with disapproval.

“And much less fun to rob him and his score if he never finds out about it,” Dutch adds a bit cheekily.

(Y/N) sighs with exasperated amusement, knowing full well Dutch wanted to rub them swiping the train into Colm’s nose— and also knowing full well it would no doubt incur the wrath of the man and retaliation. She feels uneasy, but decides to focus on the positive that Dutch wasn’t going after Colm in a rash, blind rage at the moment.

“Alright… let’s go pay our old friends a visit,” Dutch jokes with amusement and sarcasm while he lowers his binoculars, nodding as he rises.

(Y/N) rises as Arthur does the same, the man dusting off the snow that had fused to the fabric of his knee. (Y/N) stretches her legs out, turning and following Dutch down the hill with Arthur to where Javier and Lenny both waited. 

“You two, get up there and keep us covered,” Dutch gruffly orders with a nod to the two men. 

Lenny smiles as his eyes narrow with confidence. “You got it, Dutch.”

Arthur unholsters his pistol and looks over it, checking over the chamber. Satisfied it was full of ammo, he tucks it back at his side, the man lowering his rifle to inspect it as well, the weapon worn and well-used. (Y/N) glances down as her hand slowly pulls the box of ammo she has meant for their repeaters, the woman shifting closer to Arthur as she holds it out to him. 

He glances up, his brow furrowing at the sight as he opens his mouth— no doubt to protest.

“I already took a handful,” (Y/N) cuts him off before he could, offering him a small smile. “Take the rest,” she urges him with a nod of encouragement.

Arthur’s apprehensive expression softens at this as he lets out a stifled sigh, the man nodding as he reaches out and takes the box. The weight of the box was light, but he knew that it’d be enough ammo— at least for the moment. 

“Appreciate it,” he murmurs, tucking the box into his satchel for safe keeping. 

“Come on, you two. Let’s go,” Dutch calls over to the couple, bringing them from their moment as they look to the man. “We’ll circle around the far side and go down that way, same as Micah and Bill,” he continues as the two join him, the man taking the lead. “Like you two said… revenge is a luxury we can’t afford. And we shouldn’t tackle on something we ain’t fully ready for.”

Arthur was a bit caught off guard by this, the man blinking slowly as his gaze instantly shifted to (Y/N). She seemed equally pleasantly surprised, her eyes owlish as she and Arthur both follow after Dutch along the unmarked path. 

“Yeah… just… ” Arthur hesitates, unable to hide his surprise in his tone. “Wasn’t sure you agreed with us.”

(Y/N) clears her throat, nodding slightly as she adds onto this, “You did seem pretty… adamant on going after Colm himself…”

Dutch sighs loudly and deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion. “(Y/N), Arthur… have you both completely lost faith in me?” he questions, hurt and appalled. “Our needs right now are supplies, equipment, and a way out of here.” He looks downward, keeping his footing as they start down the declining hillside. “Everything else, including Colm, can wait.” 

(Y/N)’s expression shifts to one of a hint of guilt, her stomach twisting into a knot as she realizes she had possibly jumped to conclusions before rather than having faith in Dutch. She shakes her head to herself, reminding herself that the man always did what was best for the others in the group first.

“Okay…” Arthur slowly replies, still somewhat caught off guard by the sudden change of heart, but not arguing or prodding at it.

“There’s enough of those bastards down there to deal with as it is,” Dutch adds with a jerk of his head, motioning down to the mining camp. “Now, come on.” 

Following after Dutch, Arthur slows and allows (Y/N) to pass him as the rocky, snow-covered path along the hillside narrows out almost instantly upon arrival, the man wanting to keep an eye on her as they make their way down. She glances at him with a quirked brow, but says nothing as she continues after Dutch, feeling a sense of relief and ease knowing that she had Arthur both literally and figuratively watching her back. 

She keeps to the path Dutch creates as he leads through the untouched snow, her eyes flicking to the sudden drop at her left warily as her stomach sinks. Averting her eyes hastily, she shakes her head briskly with a grimace, trying not to let the altitude get to her as her head spins. Her form tenses as she feels a large hand suddenly resting on her shoulder, but she quickly relaxes, knowing it was only Arthur. 

The weight of his hand and presence helps to ease some of her anxiety, a deep, steadying breath leaving her as she focuses instead on following Dutch’s path. Arthur’s hand squeezes her shoulder reassuringly as the man walks closely behind her, eyeing the drop himself apprehensively.

The walk down the path Bill and Micah had taken was uneventful as a silence washed over the three, tension in the air from anticipation of the gunfight to come. They round a corner and continue downward, Arthur’s hand lingering on (Y/N)’s shoulder protectively as he keeps her steady, his jaw clenched with concentration to not slip himself in the snow. 

(Y/N) gasps as Dutch’s form jolts, the older man quickly steadying himself as her hands reach out instinctively to help. He lifts a hand to reassure he was fine, (Y/N) nodding wordlessly as her heart pounds in her ears.

“Careful now, it’s steep,” Dutch warns gently, adjusting his footing so as to not slip again as they continue downward. 

(Y/N) and Arthur take heed, (Y/N) finding comfort in his gentle grip on her shoulder as they both descend down the slope. They round another edge after Dutch, a rocky ledge overhead as they pass through underneath. The ground evens out as they step onto actual, solid footing rather than the rock ledge, Arthur slowly and steadily releasing his grip from (Y/N)’s shoulder.

“Maybe I should take the lead on this,” Arthur calls to Dutch, his raspy voice lowered to not draw attention. “They’re gonna be gunnin’ for you.” 

Dutch softly chuckles at this. “They ain’t got me yet.” 

“No,” Arthur agrees with a hint of apprehension. “But the way our luck’s been running…”

“Hush,” Dutch grumbles, sighing as he frowns deeply in thought. “Let’s just get down there first.” 

(Y/N) and Arthur now walk alongside Dutch as they continue around the mining town, the tall pine trees aiding to cover their figures from view as the snow continues to rain down gently onto them. The three keep their movements to a minimum to not draw attention, the sound of O’Driscoll voices faintly audible coming from the camp. Dutch draws his customized, prized pistol as a precaution, (Y/N) slowly sliding the rifle off her shoulder as she glances to the camp warily while quietly cocking it. 

Arthur does the same, the man listening intently to the voices to ensure they weren’t getting closer as they continue towards what appeared to be an old set of tracks meant for minecarts to be hauled out of the mine dug into the face of the mountain.

“Stay low,” Dutch quietly tells the two, lowering to a crouch as he continues forward under the tracks. 

(Y/N) and Arthur follow suit, Arthur slowing and allowing her in front of him for him to keep watch as he follows after her underneath the tracks. The ground was solid and only lightly dusted in snow, which was a welcome relief. The three follow the tracks to the left, Micah and Bill up ahead ducked into their positions, hidden from the sight of the O’Driscoll’s.

“Okay,” Dutch lowly speaks, his voice barely above a whisper as he nods to the two behind him. “Get into cover.” 

Dutch presses himself into some boards near Bill, (Y/N) taking cover to the left and peering out cautiously as she observes the camp. Arthur joins her at the boards, peering out to the right instead, his eyes squinted as he looks around. 

“So… what’re we doin’, Dutch?” Arthur gruffly questions, Dutch not having answered his previous mention of him taking the lead. “(Y/N) and I can take this if you want.”

Dutch’s dark eyes shift over to the two, the man hesitant before sighing deeply. “Just make the call. You wanna take the lead? Go.” 

Arthur frowns at this as he looks from Dutch to the camp, grunting softly with surprise as (Y/N) grasps his arm. 

“Ain’t he familiar?” she whispers softly in question, nodding just up ahead.

His eyes follow her gaze to two O’Driscoll’s, one sitting on a crate sharpening his knife and the other standing tall with arrogance. The O’Driscoll turns partially, allowing Arthur to catch a glimpse of his bruised and swollen face.

“Yeah! I showed that bastard!” the man boasts as he wipes some snow from his bruised and beaten face. “Left him in the dirt and walked away!”

Another O’driscoll scoffs, his Irish accent thick as he speaks. “Ya sure it was Dutch’s boys?”

“Yeah!” the man indignantly replied. “Saw ‘em with my own two eyes!”

Her eyes narrow as she observes the familiar O’Driscoll, her eyebrows shooting up as it clicks. She glances at Arthur, his expression darkened with annoyance and anger that the man he had previously let go at the Adler ranch was now here, boasting of supposedly beating him in the fight they had in the barn.

“So, why’d they let ya go? I wouldn’t have done,” the Irishman questions, shaking his head.

“There were…” he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck before perking up with false confidence. “Didn’t really have much choice! He was… pickin’ his teeth off the floor.”

The Irish O’Driscoll’s brow raises. “And… you didn’t tell ‘im nothin’?”

The other shakes his head, wincing as he tentatively rubs at the bruising on his cheek. 

“Not a word!” he assures. 

(Y/N)’s gaze hardens as she looks to Arthur once more with anticipation, adjusting her grip on her rifle. Wordlessly, Arthur nods, giving his permission for her to move in.

“We’ll go first,” Arthur finally answers Dutch, causing the older man to nod.

Her features light up as she grins, the woman instantly stepping out of cover and rising to her full height as she approaches with an air of casualness.

“Oh, really?” she calls rhetorically in question, startling the two men.

The two men whip around to her, and before they could even blink, (Y/N) had fired her rifle, the bullet striking through the chest of the Irishman. She lowers her repeater and cocks it with a swift, familiarness, the woman lifting the weapon back up as the O’Driscoll’s eyes widen with horror. 

“I recall you practically shittin’ your pants while my friend here had you at his mercy!” she reminds, her voice strong and laced with bitter amusement. “Ain’t that right?”

Before the O’Driscoll could open his mouth to respond, a bullet was between his eyes, Arthur stepping out of cover with his repeater raised readily. He cocks the weapon, nodding to the other men to move in as well. 

“ O’Driscoll’s !” Arthur’s voice roars powerfully, the man turning and shooting down another O’Driscoll with ease. “You’re dead, you sons of bitches!” 

(Y/N) rushes forward and lowers down into cover, the entire camp coming to life with O’Driscoll’s. Arthur takes cover near her, Bill, Micah and Dutch doing the same as bullets begin to fly, each gunshot crackling through the wind. 

“We need to move up and push them back!” (Y/N) shouts over to Arthur, her rifle raised as she fires at an O’Driscoll bursting from a nearby lodge.

Arthur nods in agreement as he shoots down another, the man grunting as he rises, keeping low while pushing ahead. (Y/N) rises and follows quickly, watching his back as she shoots at anything that moves that isn’t the others.

“Stay with Arthur and (Y/N)!” Dutch barks to Bill and Micah. 

(Y/N) and Arthur duck down together behind a pair of minecarts, (Y/N) hardly breathing as she takes aim over the metal. She follows an O’Driscoll scrambling to find cover, firing and shooting him through the shin as he screams out, toppling over. Swiftly cocking her rifle, she fires once more, this time hitting him in the chest before he could pick his gun up. 

“Look out! We got more in those cabins to the right!” Dutch shouts to the two, lifting both of his pistols as he fires bullets into the direction of the O’Driscolls.

He hits a majority of his shots, bringing down a few men as Micah and Bill do the same, Micah wielding two pistols like Dutch and Bill a rifle like (Y/N) and Arthur. Javier and Lenny, who were still on the hill overlooking the camp, aid as well from their positions above, Javier shooting down an O’Driscoll hiding behind a minecart that had been out of reach. Arthur looks up at the watchtower, the man lifting his rifle and firing quickly. The bullet pierces through the air before striking the head of a man who’d been taking aim, the man’s corpse toppling off the tower. 

“Keep pushin’ up on them!” Arthur sternly orders as he rises, grasping the minecart and easily scaling over it before charging in.

(Y/N) does the same as she keeps to the man, always having his back— as he always had hers. She turns around while continuing after Arthur, her eyes narrowing as she fires at an O’Driscoll hiding behind one of the decaying buildings. A gasp leaves her as another O’Driscoll emerges from the cabin, the man’s rifle lifted as he aims at the two.

“Cover! Now!” (Y/N) shouts urgently to Arthur, making him nod. 

They both duck down behind what appeared to be an old, wooden wagon without wheels, Bill, Micah and Dutch pushing in after them while keeping to their own cover. Bullets crackle loudly as the fight continues, the wood of the cover beginning to splinter from the shots fired their way. 

“Dutch!” (Y/N) calls to the older man with alarm, unable to take aim at the O’Driscoll without potentially being hit. 

Arthur lifts his head, wincing and swiftly ducking back down as another shot is fired at them from the cabin, the man gritting his teeth as his grip tightens on his rifle. Dutch looks over with narrowed eyes as he looks around, pausing as he quickly rushes around the cabin to his left. 

“Keep your heads down!” Micah urges the two, the man peering out of cover and firing several shots at the cabin with his pistols, unable to fully get a good aim on the O’Driscoll hiding inside.

“I can’t see him!” Bill growls with annoyance, ducking behind the wall as a shot was fired his way.

Dutch emerges from around the cabin and lifts himself onto the porch, the man keeping low as he makes his way through the doorway. The shots being rained down onto (Y/N) and Arthur were put to an abrupt end with a single gunshot, and a moment later, Dutch emerges from the cabin, panting lightly as he looks around with narrowed eyes.

“I think that’s all of them!” Bill calls, panting softly as he leans against the wall of the building he’d been using as cover.

(Y/N) sighs heavily with relief as she looks over their cover, smiling faintly at Dutch with a nod of gratitude. Arthur rises slowly with a deep, steadying breath, the man rubbing his ear as it faintly rings from the gunshots. 

“Search the bodies!” Dutch orders the group, holstering his pistols as he descends the porch and approaches. “Strip everything we can!”

Micah holsters his weapons as well, Bill sliding the strap of his rifle onto his shoulder as he and Micah both begin to loot the bodies of the O’Driscolls closest to them. (Y/N) and Arthur both holster their own weapons, the two separating— but keeping close to one another almost instinctively— as they begin to search them as well. (Y/N) mostly finds pocket change and ammo, both of which she is grateful for at the moment, Arthur the very same.

“Do you recognize any of them, Dutch?” Bill curiously questions, grunting as he lifts a body partially while rooting through the pockets.

Dutch lets out a humorless laugh. “Of course not. Colm doesn’t give a damn about his men. All he cares about is numbers.” He shakes his head. “If you can shoot a gun, and ride a horse, and kill without thought, you’re in.” Dutch looks around at the bodies littering the snow. “Think how long some of you have been with me… I imagine Colm doesn’t even know half the names of these fools.”

(Y/N)’s head whips up at the sound of a gunshot crackling through the trees, the woman gasping as the wood of the building a few feet of her splinters from a bullet. She winces and instantly ducks down behind cover, Arthur’s head whipping over as his eyes widen.

“Oh, shit!” Dutch exclaims with alarm. “Look out! More of those bastards coming outta the trees!”

The group instantly react as Dutch takes the lead while dashing ahead, (Y/N) readying her rifle as she scrambles out of her cover to follow the men to the edge of the mining town. (Y/N) pants softly as she hastily ducks behind a large, wooden crate, her eyes squinting as she peers over while searching the trees restlessly. She makes a soft sound of surprise as a presence joins her, her head turning as she perks up at the sight of Arthur at her side, as always. 

She has no time to say a quippy or teasing word before a large group of O’Driscolls are on them, Dutch across the way under cover and Bill and Micah hanging back a bit further as they fire at the men. Arthur raises his rifle and shoots a rider off a horse charging in, the horse whinnying with distress and bucking as the rider’s corpse hangs off him, his foot stuck in the stirrup.

“Shit, there’s a lot of them!” Dutch growls loudly with anger, raising his pistols as he fires at the trees the men were hiding in. 

“If we stay in cover— make them come to us, we’ll have a better chance!” (Y/N) shouts back in response, firing at an O’Driscoll emerging from the trees before ducking back down. 

Dutch nods. “Alright!” He looks back at Bill and Micah. “Pick ‘em off as they come through the trees!”

Arthur swiftly reloads his gun as he watches the O’Driscolls with a sharp eye, the man raising his gun and firing at a man bursting from the treeline towards him and (Y/N). (Y/N)’s eyes hardly blink as she searches the trees restlessly, her heart pounding in her ears as she manages to get a shot at a man hiding behind one of the pine trees. 

The group held their positions as they picked off the O’Driscolls one by one that were bold enough to charge in, and soon, bodies littered the snow around them. The remaining O’Driscolls turn tail and run off with shouts, Dutch slowly rising with a victorious chuckle. 

“The cowards are runnin’ away!” he declares proudly, nodding with approval. “Good work, boys and my girl!” He grins widely, nodding once more. “Back to the camp! We’ll get what we need and clear out.”

(Y/N) rises from cover as she glances through the trees warily once more, nodding to herself as she slides her rifle back over her shoulder. She smoothes out her hair as Arthur rises as well, the man adjusting his hat as they walk alongside one another back towards the camp, Dutch a few paces ahead already.

Lenny and Javier had already made their way down with the horses, their weapons drawn and ready as they remained saddled up. Dutch whistles sharply, The Count’s ears perking as he snorts, trotting over without hesitation.

“Good work, all of you,” Dutch praises, rubbing his arms lightly as he nods. “Now, let’s tear this place apart.” 

The Count slows beside Dutch, Dutch turning and grunting softly with effort as he mounts up onto the back of his saddle.

“Bill, you go search that wagon there,” Dutch orders, motioning to the wagon. “Micah, search that building. Arthur, you take the building up to the left— (Y/N), you keep searching the bodies.”

His orders prompt Bill and Micah into heading towards their tasks, Arthur nodding as (Y/N) does the same. She faintly smiles over to Arthur before heading towards a nearby corpse, Arthur’s gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turns and obeys Dutch’s command. 

“Alright now, quick!” Dutch urges, not wanting to stay longer than they had to in the camp, apprehensive of more O’Driscolls showing up. “Find those detonators, explosives, anything you can. Let’s go!” 

Arthur ducks into the building as he rubs his gloved hands together, the man shakily exhaling from the cold as he glances around the space. There was a broiler that clearly didn’t work any longer tucked against the wall, a few tables and a dresser also occupying the space, the ceiling above riddled with holes and the walls barely standing. His eyes were drawn to a large chest tucked in the corner of the room, his eyes narrowing as he reads over the label: ‘Samson Bros Saint Denis DYNAMITE ’.

He approaches the crate, his gloved hands reaching out and grasping the edge of the lid. Lifting it up, the man nods to himself.

“Here!” he calls gruffly and loudly, gaining Bill’s attention. 

Bill looks up from the wagon right outside the building Arthur was in, the man abandoning his search and approaching as Arthur reaches into the chest.

“This looks good,” Arthur comments, carefully holding a bundled stack of dynamite as he offers it to Bill. “What do you think, Bill?”

“Looks fine,” Bill praises as he nods, grasping the dynamite and bringing it closer to his face as he sniffs at it. “Smells good.”

Arthur lowers slightly as he reaches into the chest, fishing out a decent sized crate of the dynamite being kept inside. He grunts as he passes it off to Bill, who stumbles a bit with the weight before correcting his footing.

“Come on,” Arthur urges, his boots thumping softly on the wooden floor as he makes his way back out.

Bill nods as he follows after the man, Arthur glancing around once outside and spotting (Y/N) already mounted up onto the back of Taima, his current horse standing beside them.

“Did we get everything?” Dutch calls in question, rubbing his fingerless gloved hands together to generate warmth. 

Micah exits the building he’d been looting, holding a large paper as his eyes scan over it.

“Think so, boss!” he calls shakily from the cold, rolling the paper up as he approaches Dutch, holding it up to the man. “Found this on one of them.”

“Thank you,” Dutch replies as he takes the paper, lifting it and unrolling it to view the document. 

“This is perfect!” Bill excitedly says, hobbling slightly as he carries the crate of dynamite through the snow towards his horse.

Dutch’s eyes light up as he looks over the plans, Arthur making his way towards (Y/N) and his horse as he keeps an eye on Dutch. 

“Oh, yeah,” Dutch murmurs to himself with delight. “Interesting… this is something about the train they was gonna rob.” His brow raises, mirth appearing on his face as he chuckles. “A Mr. Leviticus Cornwall.” Nodding, he lowers the paper and rolls it back up. “Mount back up— let’s keep moving.”

(Y/N) smiles faintly towards Arthur as she watches his approach, the man adjusting his hat over his head before grasping the saddle of his horse. He hoists himself up, settling his weight with a deep, weary sigh as he takes the reins. He glances over to her as he feels her gaze on him, her brow furrowed slightly with what appeared to be concern, the woman noticing the bags under his eyes and his somewhat sluggish movements. 

Before she could say anything, Dutch was urging The Count into a trot, her attention snapping towards him. 

“Alright! Let’s get outta here!” Dutch calls without looking back, expecting the others to follow loyally.

(Y/N) flicks the reins and taps her heels into Taima’s sides, causing the horse to nicker softly as she obeys the command, lurching forward in a trot. Arthur does the same as their horses trot alongside one another after Dutch, Bill, Micah, Javier and Lenny following from behind. 

“Proud of you all!” Dutch declares strongly. “All of you!” he reiterates. “Not a man or woman down.” 

Bill nods to himself, smirking toothily. “Good work, fellars!” He pauses. “And, uh… lady!” he adds.

This earns a snort from (Y/N) as she doesn’t look back, Arthur shaking his head slightly with a tinge of amusement on his expression.

“Not bad for some starving down-and-outs,” Dutch states proudly with confidence, guiding The Count up along the hill as the others follow. “They can pummel us hard as they like, but we will always get back up and fight.” He nods as his grip tightens on the reins. “That’s who we are. Outlaws for life.”

There was a brief moment of silence, Dutch’s words of praise and encouragement seeming to boost the morale of those following.

“Wait until we have John, Mac, Charles and Sean back riding with us, and I believe—” Dutch pauses, shaking his head as his tone hardens with absolute, “I know… they will all be back.”

Arthur nods along to this with a determined look, guiding his horse after Dutch. “Well, you didn’t get Colm… but this hit will hurt him a lot more than any bullet in the head.” 

“Especially when we rob this train, too,” Dutch cheekily adds.

(Y/N)’s eyes shift to Dutch at this, her gaze returning to the path ahead as the hill they’d been riding on evens out as they enter the forest.

Arthur heartily laughs, “Yeah, I guess we’ll see about that!”

“Oh, indeed we will!” Dutch replies confidently, pausing as he notices (Y/N)’s silence. “What’s on your mind then, hmm?” he questions, glancing back briefly at her with a tilt of his head.

(Y/N)’s gaze shifts to Dutch, the woman hesitating. “Nothin’ much,” she replies evenly, feeling Arthur’s eyes on her as she sighs. “Just…” She frowns. “You realize that we’ll have Colm on our tails to deal with… along with the Pinkertons, after we rob this train, right?”

Dutch’s eyes soften with understanding, recognizing her worry that always reminded him of Hosea’s. 

“Of course!” he responds in a confident, lighthearted tone, turning to face back forward as he guides The Count along the path through the trees. “But we’re going to stay a step ahead of them. Make sure we always know where they are before they know where we are.” He shakes his head, his voice lowering as he continues, “We allowed ourselves to get a step behind in Blackwater. That won’t happen again.”

(Y/N) stifles back a sigh as she instead remains silent, frowning in thought as she absentmindedly strokes Taima’s neck— both to soothe the horse, and as an act of self-comfort, one she did often with her own old horse. She doesn’t notice Arthur’s eyes on her, the man’s brow furrowed with concern as he looks ahead to Dutch. The group was caught in a silence as their horses continued to trot through the snow, the sky above slowly becoming darker as the sun began to set— a testament to how long they’d been out dealing with this mess for the day. 

“Alright!” Dutch’s voice breaks the silence, the man spurring The Count into a gallop. “Dig in, everyone! Let’s make some ground!” 

The group obeys without question or hesitance as they all urge their horses into galloping speed, the familiar sight of the stream appearing, the water roaring loudly as it travels downstream with chunks of ice floating in the liquid. As per normal, (Y/N) rode to Dutch’s left, Arthur to his right, another silence falling over the group that's only broken by the sound of the horse’s galloping and their neighs. 

They ride along the side of the river on the path, the wind starting to pick up again as the clouds begin to rapidly darken the sky with the coming of night. (Y/N) hunches slightly as she shivers, her breath visible as she breathes sharply out clenched teeth. She looks up ahead before gasping, her eyes widening as she sees a figure standing alongside a horse at the river.

“Dutch!” she calls urgently, making the man glance back as she nods ahead.

Dutch instantly slows The Count, trusting her judgement before looking ahead, his eyes squinting as he faintly makes out the outline of the figure she sees. Arthur guides his horse closer towards Taima and (Y/N) as the rest of the group slow as well into trots, Arthur glaring ahead to see through the snow.

“Hey… you see that feller?” Dutch questions Arthur. “Wasn’t he at the camp with Colm?” 

The figure notices the approaching group on horseback, his eyes widening as his face falls. He hastily scrambles to his horse and yanks himself on, his horse whinnying with alarm and protest as he spurs the animal into a sprint in the opposite direction. 

“Leave him to us,” Arthur growls out, watching the O’Driscoll flee with dangerous eyes.

“Alright— we’re heading back. Just bring him back alive! He could be useful!” Dutch urges as he nods.

(Y/N) softly exclaims as she urges Taima into a gallop, the horse neighing fiercely as she obeys. Arthur does the same to his own horse, who whinnies as he gallops after Taima. (Y/N) turns Taima’s reins towards the river, Taima neighing as she leaps over a rock and into the icy stream. Arthur steers his horse into the stream past the rock, spurring the horse on until the two were racing side by side after the O’Driscoll. 

“There!” (Y/N) calls, nodding ahead as the outline of the man and horse become visible. 

“Stay the hell away from me!” the man cries out with fear, his voice barely audible over the wind. 

“Stop right now, you bastard!” Arthur snarls viciously in response. 

Arthur encourages his horse faster with a flick of his reins, the man kicking his spurs into the horse’s sides gently. Taima, smaller and leaner, takes the lead with ease while snorting loudly, (Y/N) glancing to an upcoming, elevated snow mound to the left of the path. She yells out while spurring the horse up the elevated path, Taima increasing steadily in speed as Arthur keeps on the tail of the O’Driscoll. 

He takes out his lasso and prepares it as he draws near, his jaw clenched and teeth bared slightly as he glares ahead at the man. Taima whinnies from above as she leaps off the lowered slant of ground, landing directly into the path of the O’Driscoll and rearing back as (Y/N) tightly holds on. 

This causes the O’Driscoll to shriek with alarm as his own horse skips to a stop, rearing back as well with a startled whinny. Just as this occurs, Arthur throws his lasso, the rope winding around the man as he yanks him firmly off the saddle of the horse. (Y/N) readies her lasso and throws it around the neck of the Tennessee Walker, preventing it from fleeing as it lets out neighs and alarmed whinnies, pacing restlessly. 

“Shit!” the O’Driscoll wheezes out in pain, squirming in an attempt to break free of the lasso. “No!” 

Arthur smoothly dismounts his horse and darts to the man, kicking him in the chest down into the snowy ground as he wheezes painfully. Arthur lowers down and turns the O’Driscoll around, expertly winding the lasso around his arms, then taking out another bundle of rope to wind around his legs with precision and tight knots. 

“You’re comin’ with us!” Arthur declares with a wide, dangerous smirk. 

(Y/N) chuckles faintly under her breath, shaking her head as she leans back in her saddle comfortably, keeping an eye on the man squirming like a worm on a hook.

“I— I’m no use to you! Really!” the O’Driscoll pleas, his voice higher pitched from fear and raspy.

Arthur lowers down and grunts as he hoists the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the man grimacing as he was carried over and plopped unceremoniously onto the back of Arthur’s horse.

“Please, don’t!” the man begs desperately.

 (Y/N) looks up as the area becomes darkened, the pale moonlight the only light source now as she frowns. She lowers partially to the lantern on Taima’s saddle, turning the nozzle as the flame slowly sparks and lights. Arthur hoists himself onto his horse and settles casually, the man also taking out his lantern, but holding it in his right hand rather than hanging it off his saddle. 

The Tennessee Walker held by (Y/N)’s lasso bucks and neighs with alarm, but slowly settles the longer it was lassoed. She watches the animal sternly and warily for any sign of it being aggressive, but it finally calms, (Y/N) sighing and nodding to Arthur. He nods in return, turning his horse and urging it into a gallop as (Y/N) does the same, her grip firm on the lasso as she leads the horse alongside her. 

“What’s your name, hmm?” (Y/N) calls over to the O’Driscoll, her eyes lingering on the man precariously draped on Arthur’s horse. 

“I don’t know!” the man exclaims back, his voice cracking a bit. 

Arthur’s brow raises as he glances back briefly. “You don’t know your name ?”

The man cringes, wincing with each gallop the horse took. 

“It— It’s Kieran!” 

Arthur clicks his tongue with annoyance at the vague reply. “Kieran what ?”

“Duffy!” Kieran wheezes, his ribs pressing into the horse painfully. “Kieran Duffy!”

(Y/N)’s eyes narrow as she regards the man, never having been so close to an O’Driscoll without them trying to shoot her. He was different from how she thought an O’Driscoll would be. Meek. 

“Well, I ain’t gonna lie to you…” Arthur starts in a drawl, his tone casual as he continues, “This is a real bad day for you, Kieran Duffy.” 

“Where are you taking me?!” Kieran questions fearfully, his voice strained.

“Somewhere you ain’t gonna like,” Arthur replies vaguely. 

(Y/N) guides Taima to gallop beside Arthur rather than behind, the Tennessee Walker keeping up as it was led by the lasso around its neck.

Kieran manages to partially lift his head to look at the woman when he notices movement, his eyes wide with alarm. “Why?!” he squeaks out. “What are you gonna do to me?!” 

“ Something you ain’t gonna like,” Arthur again vaguely replies, this time with more annoyance. “So, I’d advise you… to save your breath for screamin’!” he adds threateningly, his lips pulled back in a smirk and his eyes narrowed.

(Y/N) snorts and lightly rolls her eyes at the enjoyment Arthur was getting from this, the corner of her lips twitching with amusement as she keeps a steady grip on the lasso around the horse she was leading.

“No, please!” Kieran cries out with fear. “L— Lady, you gotta help me!” 

(Y/N)’s brow raises as she glances to the man from the corner of her eye. “I gotta ?” she repeats in a monotone. “Why?”

Arthur looks back with a dangerous scowl, his large hand reaching back and snatching the back of Kieran’s head roughly.

“Don’t you even look at her, you ugly bastard,” he growls lowly in warning, forcing his head back down before returning his hand to the reins, his other hand still holding up his lantern to light the way. “Talk to her again, and I’ll knock out your teeth.” 

Kieran lets out a feeble whimper of fear and dread at this, smartly keeping his gaze down to avoid looking at (Y/N). (Y/N)’s eyes shift to Arthur as her heart becomes warm in her chest, the woman feeling herself smiling a bit bashfully as she returns her gaze to the path ahead as they follow along the river.

“Don’t do this, please!” Kieran pleas. “Let me go— I’ll disappear! I’ll go to Mexico!” 

Arthur grunts with irritation, his eyes fixated ahead as they ride along the trail leading into a thick brush of pine trees.

“You better shut your mouth, you little shit, or I will shut it for you,” he warns darkly. 

“Want me to gag him?” (Y/N) questions with a tinge of humor, finding Arthur’s behavior both endearing and amusing.

Arthur lets out a low chuckle at this, shaking his head briefly in response as he smirks faintly. (Y/N) grins cheekily to herself at eliciting the reaction from the man, her hand starting to feel a bit cramped from holding the lasso so tightly. She lowers the lasso and loops it around the horn of Taima’s saddle, easing some of the pressure off her palm.

“Please!” Kieran begs with desperation and despair. “I’ll do anything! I’ve only been runnin’ with them for a couple of months! Have a heart, mister!” He lifts his head to look up at (Y/N) pleadingly. “Please, miss!” 

Arthur’s smirk falls as his eyes sharpen. “Are you… trying to test me, is that it?” he demands lowly with exasperation and anger. “Because I will break every bone in your body if you talk to her again.” 

Kieran lets out a fearful sound. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay?!” 

“Not one more goddamn word,” Arthur lowly and sternly commands. “Am I clear?”

“Okay! Okay!” Kieran frantically agrees, lowering his head back down fearfully. 

Arthur sighs lowly, a growl reverberating in his throat. “That’s two bones, right there.”

Kieran wisely doesn’t reply to this, (Y/N) shaking her head with a scoff of disbelief at his behavior. She looks ahead and scans along the terrain, the snow pouring around them making it difficult to see far and the wind whipping around them. She squints as she faintly makes out the outline of a building up ahead, her features softening with relief as Arthur and her cross over the shallow stream. They ride along the outskirts of the town before making it to the main path, (Y/N) lowering her hand to dim the lantern on Taima’s saddle as they enter the camp. 

A campfire outside the men’s lodge lights the area, no doubt meant for whoever kept watch, a few of the horses of the men hitched up outside of the barn they were to be kept in. Taima whinnies as they arrive at camp, as if knowing this were their temporary home, (Y/N) chuckling softly and patting her neck as she guides her to the hitching posts. Arthur does the same with his horse, the two hitching side by side near The Count. 

“Here we are, you sack of shit,” Arthur proudly states, dismounting as he carefully ties the reins of his horse to the post. “Let’s introduce you to the boys,” he lowly adds, his tone holding a dark promise that it wouldn’t exactly be a friendly introduction.

(Y/N) dismounts and hitches Taima, the woman unraveling the lasso from the horn of her saddle. She turns and faces Kieran’s horse as she gently guides it over to an empty hitching post, the horse seeming uneasy but following with a soft nicker. She ties the reins horse securely on the hitching post before removing the lasso from its neck as Arthur grabs Kieran off of his horse, (Y/N) grabbing his lantern for him with a nod as she follows him towards the church. 

“Don’t hurt me, please,” Kieran whimpers, knowing it was futile. 

(Y/N) scoffs softly through her teeth. “Aw, they’re real friendly. Long as you ain’t an O’Driscoll,” she comments casually, pausing and pretending to ‘remember’ that he was one. “Ah, well! Tough luck for you, buddy.”

Arthur chuckles deeply at this, the two walking over to the church as (Y/N) holds the lantern for their light. The door to the church opens, Dutch emerging and the plans they’d found at the camp in his hands.

Dutch lets out a short laugh. “You found the little shit, did you?” 

“Yep,” Arthur replies, lowering Kieran off his shoulder and dropping him into the snow. “I got him,” he softly says, noticing (Y/N) having stepped closer while drawing her knife. 

Kieran groans in pain at the rough landing, his face pressing into the icy snow as he writhes against his restraints. (Y/N) nods at Arthur as she steps back once more while holding his lantern, Arthur lowering down to cut the rope from around Kieran’s ankles to allow him to stand and walk. 

“Got his horse, too,” (Y/N) mentions, nodding over to the horses hitched. “Seems strong and healthy. Well taken care of.”

“Very good, you two!” Dutch praises with approval, lowering the large paper as he rolls it up. “Welcome to your new home,” he calmly says to Kieran with a smirk. “Hope you’re real happy here.”

Arthur grasps Kieran’s arms roughly and lifts him up to his feet, Kieran wincing and stumbling a bit. 

“You want me to make him talk?” Arthur questions readily, his hands holding Kieran in a firm hold. 

Kieran trembles beneath Dutch’s gaze, his face covered in ice and snow and his eyes wide like a frightened deer. He breathes raggedly, his knees wobbling beneath him.

Dutch shakes his head, amusement in his eyes as he regards the frightened O’Driscoll. “Oh, no. Now all we’ll get is lies.” He glances over to the lodge as Bill and Uncle exit, his features lighting up. “Uncle! Mr. Williamson!” he calls, beckoning them over. “Tie this maggot up someplace safe. We get him hungry first.”

Arthur grunts as he shoves Kieran towards Bill, who catches him while glaring down at the man with disgust. Uncle shuffles closer, shivering at the cold as he grabs hold of Kieran with Bill. Arthur turns to (Y/N) and holds out his hand, (Y/N) perking up and passing his lantern over before hugging herself for warmth.

“I got a saying, my friend,” Dutch starts, stepping closer to Kieran with a serious, dark expression. “We shoot fellers, as need shootin’... save fellers, as need savin’... and feed ‘em, as need feedin’.” He leans closer to Kieran, who shrinks back fearfully. “We’re gonna find out… what you need.”

Dutch nods, Bill and Uncle pulling Kieran back. Dutch throws his hands up with disbelief, letting out a hearty, raspy laugh of pure delight.

“I can’t believe it!” he exclaims cheerfully, turning as he heads towards the lodge. “An O’Driscoll in my camp!”

Kieran shakes his head rapidly with wide eyes, struggling as he is pulled along by Bill and Uncle. 

“No— I ain’t an O’Driscoll, mister!” he desperately shouts, grunting in pain as he is shoved. “I hate that feller!”

Dutch slows and turns around, snorting as he lifts the rolled up plans in a wave. “Oh, whatever you say, son!” He turns his attention to (Y/N) and Arthur, nodding with approval and a proud gleam in his eye. “Well done, both of you.”

(Y/N) nods with a faint smile in return, feeling warmth spreading in her chest at his fatherly praise.

“I’m just sorry we missed out on Colm,” Arthur apologetically responds, shaking his head with a sigh.

Dutch only smiles as he steps closer to the lodge, pushing the door open. “Oh, there’s time enough for that,” he promises, nodding his head as he glances down to the plans in his hands. “Now, I gotta figure out if we can hit that train,” he says with excitement, grinning to himself.

With that, the man disappears inside of the lodge with a spring to his step, Arthur unable to resist snorting softly under his breath as he adjusts the brim of his hat. (Y/N) smiles faintly to herself, glad to see that Dutch was slowly coming out of the slump he’d been in.

Arthur shivers at the stinging cold in the air, sighing shakily as he turns to (Y/N) with a softened look.

“We goin’ in, too?” he questions with a hint of weariness, stretching his neck to the side as he grimaces. “Reckon you and I could use a rest after all that.”

 (Y/N) slowly nods her head, but pauses as she sees Hosea’s form hunched over near Simon’s setup by the horses, the man seeming to be on guard duty as he wields a rifle in his hands, a lit lantern hung over the space and the campfire nearby illuminating his features. Her expression softens with worry as he begins to cough violently, her gaze shifting to Arthur.

“In a minute,” she assures softly, nodding towards where the older man stood. 

Arthur follows the nod and spots Hosea as well, his features becoming concerned as well as he grunts under his breath. He turns and passes his lantern for her to use, the woman taking it with a thankful nod.

“Okay,” Arthur acknowledges with a nod, his eyes lingering on (Y/N) before he heads into the lodge, the man dusting off his jacket as the door slowly swings shut behind him.

(Y/N) glances over her shoulder to the shut door with a softened look before turning, shivering and hugging herself as she makes her way over towards where Hosea stood. She grimaces as Hosea begins to cough violently, her brows furrowing deeply with fret. 

“You should be inside resting, Hosea,” she calls to the man over the wind after he is done with his coughing fit, seeming to startle him slightly. “It’s too cold out here for you— especially with that cough.”

Hosea turns and seems to relax at the sight of her, the man wearily smiling as crows feet form along the corners of his eyes. 

“I’ll be alright, my dear,” he assures raspily, coughing softly into his feet as he turns away. “Javier’s going to take over for me in a few minutes, and the fire’s warm enough when I need it.” He nods to the campfire a few paces away.

(Y/N) doesn’t seem convinced or reassured, her features concerned as she lets out a soft hum of acknowledgement.

“Okay…” 

She hesitates as she watches Hosea for a moment, slowly turning.

“Listen…” Hosea murmurs, causing her to stop and look back at his serious, hardened tone. “Listen to me.” He looks around in a secretive manner to make sure they’re alone, the man shuffling closer to her. “You and Arthur… try to stop Dutch getting you all killed. ‘Cause I’m about beginning to think he’s finally lost his mind with that damn train.”

(Y/N) was taken aback as her heart sinks, her eyes widening as she blinks rapidly with shock and alarm. She gazes partially up at Hosea, her expression one of uncertainty and dread. 

“What?” she breathes out, shaking her head briskly as to shake herself from her stupor. “What… d’ya mean? We… have to listen to Dutch. If we don’t, what’ll we do then?” Her voice was small and tinged with doubt, her eyes wide as she looks up at Hosea.

“I don’t know…” he admits weakly as he looks down with defeat, sighing. “I never knew. Guess I could never figure that out, neither,” he adds bitterly under his breath, sighing deeply as a soft wheeze leaves him.

Hosea hesitates as he looks over her expression, the man wincing slightly for having caused such a fearful reaction from her. While she was a grown woman now, oftentimes he still saw that frightened 15 year old girl he first encountered years ago— especially when she was looking at him the way she was now. He turns his head to the side as he begins to cough violently into his fist, the cold rattling his chest as he wheezes softly while stumbling. (Y/N) reaches her free hand out with alarm, Hosea quickly lifting a hand in reassurance as he steadies himself. 

“Ah, don’t listen to me. I’m just… talking crazy,” Hosea says with a low, breathless and raspy laugh, his smile a bit strained as he lowers his arm. “Once I have some food in me, I’ll be fine.”

(Y/N) shakes her head as she watches him with worry and a hint of sadness. “Hosea…”

“Go on in with Arthur, now,” Hosea urges warmly, his tone gentle and reassuring as he nods to her. “I’ll be in soon, my dear. Go get warm.” 

She hesitates as she remains in place while hugging herself for warmth, slowly nodding. 

“Okay,” she quietly agrees, her hand hesitating before reaching out. 

(Y/N)’s hand gently rests on his arm for a moment, Hosea looking down at it with a softened expression before lifting his eyes to meet her concerned gaze. He swallows thickly and nods his head with a faint, reassuring smile, (Y/N) mirroring this before she slowly pulls her hand back. He watches as she turns and makes her way through the snow and darkness towards the lodge, a soft series of coughs leaving him as he adjusts his grip on the rifle. Sighing deeply, he shakes his head to himself, shivering lightly and glancing around with sharp eyes despite his age, dutifully keeping watch. 

-

Hosea’s words ring in (Y/N)’s head as she makes her way into the building, her stomach twisting into knots and her brow furrowed deeply in thought and worry. She wasn’t used to the older man being so anxious— so uncertain and alarmed. They were all shaken by what happened in Blackwater, but something about seeing Hosea, the man who always had a plan and relied on Dutch, rattled, left her feeling dread and a sense of fear, even though he tried to backtrack and reassure her.

Shaking her head to herself, she sighs deeply as she approaches the closed door to her and Arthur’s room, pausing as she recollects herself. She reminds herself everyone’s unsettled and things are uncertain, encouraging herself things will be better once they’re finally off of this mountain and into warmer territory.

(Y/N)’s shoulders lose some of their tension as she exhales through her nose, her hand reaching out and gently pushing the door open. She steps inside, her expression instantly souring with annoyance as she spots Arthur on the floor yet again. His gun belt was hung on the back of the chair near the vanity, his pistol on the nightstand to his left. The man was already beginning to doze off— no doubt from pure exhaustion— his head bobbing slightly as his chin dipped down towards his chest, his hat tilted down over his eyes and his arms folded over his chest in a pathetic attempt to keep warm. 

A sharp huff of exasperation leaves her as she stomps over, the sound not disturbing the man somehow as he continues to drift off, his breathing heavy and slow. However, the kick to his boot does disturb him, Arthur letting out a surprised snort as he was jostled awake from the action. 

“What the—?” the man starts groggily and indignantly, his hand lifting to tilt his hat back as he looks up.

“Get up. And get into the damn bed,” (Y/N) sternly and bluntly cuts him off, standing before him with her hands resting on her hips.

Arthur’s eyes blink slowly as he stares up at her, confusion, bafflement, embarrassment and exhaustion crossing his features all at once. His hand lingers on his hat before he lowers it slowly, the man shifting a bit as he averts his eyes with a grumble.

“I— I told you before, I’m—” he stammered lightly.

“Arthur Morgan.” 

Arthur tenses at the use of his full name from her lips, his expression, usually hardened with a dangerous scowl for others, shifting to one of uncharacteristic sheepishness, resembling much like a child being scolded. 

“Get into bed,” (Y/N) continues in a firm, urging tone, her eyes narrowed in a pointed glare as her arms lift to fold over her chest. “You and I both need to be at our best, and you sleepin’ on the floor ain’t gonna make that happen.” 

She stares down at him as the heel of her boot starts to lightly tap with impatience, her lips pursed slightly and her brow furrowed with her expectant gaze on him. Arthur doesn’t move for a moment as he stares back with bafflement, hesitance and uncertainty, the sound of her boot thumping on the floor filling the silence. A deep sigh of resignation leaves Arthur, the sound causing (Y/N) to perk up visible as her eyes soften a fraction. 

Arthur mutters under his breath with feigned annoyance, the man shifting and slowly rising as some of his bones pop in protest. (Y/N)’s eyes follow his as he rises to his full height in front of her, the man gazing down at her with a hardened, somewhat irritated look. However, it softens as the corner of his lips twitch up in a faint smile that he was unable to force back, his head turning away as he scoffs with fond amusement.

(Y/N)’s head tilts as she herself begins to smile faintly, the woman watching as he stomps towards the bed. He lowers to sit down at the foot of the bed in an exaggerated motion as a deep, audacious sigh leaves him, his movements one of begrudging compliance.

“Satisfied?” Arthur drawls, his brows raising as he lifts his hands off his knees for emphasis. 

“Mhm,” she hums back with a firm nod. 

Arthur exhales a puff of air through his lips as he briefly rolls his eyes, his gaze shifting to the bed as (Y/N) begins to remove her gun belt. 

“Don’t think we’ll both fit,” Arthur comments in a monotone, taking note of his large frame and how petite the bed was, the man slowly kicking off his boots before settling them upright neatly against the wall.

(Y/N) drapes her gun belt on top of Arthur’s, the buckle clinking softly as she toes off her own boots with minimal difficulty, the fabric of her pants having hardened from the icy snow. 

“We will,” she confidently replies, turning as she approaches where he sat. 

Arthur gives her a doubtful look, a startled grunt leaving him as her hand reaches out, pushing against his chest. Caught off guard, Arthur leans back with the force and feels his cheeks becoming warm despite the cold, his eyes wide as he swallowed thickly. (Y/N) steps closer as he tenses and shrinks back, the man shifting further onto the bed as his forearms prop his upper half up. His heartbeat was loud in his ears as he scooted towards the wall, pressing into it lightly as (Y/N) climbed into the bed, seeming completely fine. 

“I— I really don’t think that—” he starts to protest, his voice hardened due to being flustered and tinged with a hint of alarm. 

The words of protest die on his tongue as (Y/N) settles into the bed beside him, his form rigid as she lays on her side facing him. His breath catches as she slides closer due to being so close to the edge of the bed, her legs partially intertwining with his own. Her arms tuck between them and rest against his chest as she nestles in closer, her form trembling— from the cold, Arthur assumes— as she slowly relaxes with a shaky breath. 

(Y/N) settles slowly as she allows her form to meld into Arthur’s sturdy frame, the cold still biting at her, but not nearly as bad as before. She grabs the blanket that had slipped partially off the bed, shivering as she pulls it over both of them.

“What were you sayin’?” she questions softly as she settles once more, her voice tinged with drowsiness as she gazes up at him with half-lidded eyes. 

Arthur’s lips parted slightly as he stared down at her with an unreadable look in his eye, his right arm hovering with uncertainty as he laid facing her. He couldn’t feel her hands against his chest due to his thick, wooly coat, but the action still made him feel like a damn teenage boy again. He doesn’t speak for a moment as he slowly removes his hat, the man leaning over to set it onto the nightstand before he settles back into his space. 

“Nothin’,” he manages to reply, his voice huskier than usual. His expression softens as he watches her eyes flutter shut. “Nothin’ at all, darlin’.”

Tentatively and slowly, he allowed his arm to lower until it was draped around her waist, his eyes focused on watching her closely for any sign of discomfort or unease. To his pleasant surprise, (Y/N) shifts even closer if possible, a soft, contented sigh leaving her as her eyes remain shut, the tension in her frame gone in an instant. Arthur’s eyes trace over her features with a softness only reserved for her, his gloved hand gently splaying on her back as he pulls her closer into him. 

Adjusting the blanket to ensure she was fully covered, Arthur sighs deeply as his head falls against the pillow. His muscles slowly relax as the stiffness bleeds out of his frame, his eyes falling shut. His grip around her remains firm and protective even as he drifts off swiftly, quiet, soft snores beginning to leave the man. The wind continues to howl into the night, but the cold does not reach the two in their slumber, their shared body heats and closeness allowing them both to finally get a peaceful night’s rest.

Chapter Text

(Y/N) stands alone in the bedroom she and Arthur were sharing for the time being, the woman sighing shakily as she rubs her gloved hands together. Her shoulders tremble from the cold that never seems to leave her bones anymore, her hands lowering to adjust her gun belt around her waist. Her eyes glance around the room, Arthur’s gear gone along with the man, indicating he no doubt got up early that morning to take over watch duty outside in the frozen hell they were in. 

She looks to the bed, the blankets smoothed out neatly on the surface, as she had made it after getting up. Admittedly, she had felt oddly disappointed when she woke and found Arthur gone, as well as surprised she didn’t even stir when he got up. His warmth had lingered faintly and the blankets had been tucked securely around her form, her heart fluttering at the thought of the man caring for her so tenderly while she had been dead to the world. Shaking her head to herself, she rubs her face with her hand with a soft sniffle, wincing at the cold that bites at her nose as she grabs her satchel to head out.

Her boots softly thump on the floor as she heads towards the closed room door, the spurs attached to her heels clinking ever so softly with each step. She reaches for the handle, turning it and slowly pulling the door open.

"— The thing you ain’t understanding properly, Hosea , is this—” the sharp, aggravated and tight voice of Dutch grits out, causing her to tense.

Her hand tightens on the door knob, the door only partially opened as the voice of Dutch carries over from the living room.

"— You’re the one with the death wish!” Dutch finishes in accusation, his tone exasperated and strained as the sound of his boots pacing fills the space. “I am doing everything I can to keep these people alive—!”

“Pinkertons!” Hosea barks sharply, cutting the man off. “Lots of them, and bounty hunters too. More than ever before, and all after us !”

(Y/N) hears Hosea shifting in his chair, the man no doubt also aggravated with Dutch judging by his curt tone.

“We was set up in Blackwater—” Hosea starts with exasperation. 

“And none of them dumb enough to take that pass in winter, or think us fool enough to do it neither!” Dutch firmly states, his tone assured none would be after them. “We got a few weeks. By the time they find out where we are, we’ll be gone!” 

(Y/N) wasn’t sure if Dutch was truly that confident, or if he was trying to assure himself more so than he was Hosea. Her brow furrows as she looks downward, her hand still tightly holding the doorknob, a faint, barely visible tremble to her hand. 

“Where to?” Hosea sharply and wearily demands. 

His question was followed by a long pause, (Y/N) able to hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as her chest tightens with an uncomfortable sensation. It felt akin to fear, but it was more than that, though she was unsure of what exactly the sensation was. Her insides felt cold and her stomach was twisting uneasily, her face contorted with a frown and her heart feeling like it was being squeezed.

“I ain’t got that yet,” Dutch finally begrudgingly replies, his words clipped and strained.

Hosea lets out a humorless, pointed laugh at the man’s lack of a plan, (Y/N) grimacing slightly at this, knowing it would only infuriate Dutch further no doubt.

“But this ain’t done!” Dutch growls over Hosea’s laughter. “Not no way!”

(Y/N) listens to the sound of Dutch’s stomping steps as he storms out of the building, Hosea’s mocking laughter guiding him out the door. Her throat feels tight and her breathing was slow and a tad shaky— and she didn’t think it was just from the cold. Slowly, she pulls the wooden door open, wincing slightly at the quiet creaking noise of the hinges. She makes her way out of the room and into the short hallway, the woman peeking around the corner and into the living room space.

Hosea sat alone at the fire, his eyes already on her, his head still facing the fireplace as the warm glow of the fire highlights his weathered features. He exhales softly through his nose as his gaze shifts away, the man putting on a small, fond smile as he leans back in his chair.

“Didn’t realize you were still in bed, my dear,” he comments with a faint, half-hearted chuckle, his eyes returning to her. “Thought you were out and about.”

(Y/N) feels herself smiling sheepishly, nodding. “Yeah, uh… Arthur didn’t wake me before he left. That man moves surprisingly quiet for how big he is,” she comments in a fond, teasing tone to try to ease the lingering tension, though her brow was still furrowed a bit with visible stress.

Hosea lets out a raspy, faint laugh in agreement. “I saw him outside on guard duty pretty early. It’s good you were able to get your rest in for the day.”

(Y/N) nods at this as her eyes avert downward, her small, halfhearted smile beginning to fade as she subconsciously rubs her gloved hands together. Hosea watches her for a few moments as his expression softens with understanding and fatherly affection, the man leaning back in his chair as his hand rests on his thigh. 

“I’m sorry you had to hear that, dear girl,” he mutters softly and soothingly, shaking his head before sighing through his nose. “I’m, heh… growing more worrisome with my old age, I suppose,” he bitterly says with a tight-lipped smile. “We’ll be off this mountain soon enough, far away from anyone following. We’ll all be fine.”

(Y/N)’s gaze flicks up at his gentle, reassuring words, her brow furrowing slightly as her jaw shifts. Her heart rate began to slow to normal once again as the knots in her stomach loosened some, but she could hear it— the faint, strained and uncertainness to Hosea’s voice. But she trusted the man— same as she always had trusted Dutch, and she forces her expression to soften with a smile as she straightens up.

“I believe you,” she quietly replies, feeling her nerves easing somewhat— though there was a tension in her frame that stubbornly remained.

Hosea’s eyes soften and he smiles at this, nodding. “Good.” He sighs softly, turning his attention to the fireplace.

(Y/N) lingers as she watches the older man, her smile slowly softening with concern as she takes in his tired features and the weariness in his eyes. His bags were more prominent, and his forehead was wrinkled with his furrowed brow as he stared down at the fire, deep in thought with his elbows resting on his knees and his fists lifted to his mouth. Not wanting to trouble or disturb him, she makes her way towards the door as her hands gently tug up the gun belt around her waist. 

She pauses as she begins to mentally prepare herself for the blast of cold she will no doubt experience once she opens the door, a sigh leaving her as she frowns with displeasure and reluctance. Hearing movement, she glances back over her shoulder, her features softening slightly with surprise at the sight of Molly inside of Dutch’s room, the room door opened. She hadn’t seen the woman much in the past few weeks, especially not since they’ve been on this hellish mountain. She could recall a time when Molly used to spend all her time with the girls and with (Y/N) on occasion, but she seemed to keep to herself most of the time now, all her attention, and devotion, on Dutch.

 (Y/N) watches as the woman applies a layer of lipstick using a small, handheld mirror, and she couldn’t understand how Molly seemed to always look beautiful and proper, even when it was freezing and they had little to no supplies. Molly’s light green eyes flick over to (Y/N) through the doorway when she feels her eyes on her, her hand still lifted while her fingers delicately grasp the tube of lipstick. Her reddish brown eyebrow raises slightly, (Y/N) blinking quickly as she shifts her weight on her feet. 

Clearing her throat, (Y/N) lifts her hand in a small wave as she offers Molly a small, friendly smile, nodding her head. This seems to surprise Molly for a brief moment, her sharp, elegant features softening slightly. A second passes, Molly’s lips slowly curving upward in a faint, acknowledging and greeting smile in return, her eyes then returning back to her mirror as she resumes fixing up her makeup. 

A flicker of surprise enters (Y/N)’s face as it had done to Molly, her eyes widening a fraction. If she were being honest, she didn’t truly expect the woman to acknowledge her. A small smile tugs at (Y/N)’s lip as she turns, her hand lifting and reaching outward as she begins to gently push the door open.

 “Keep warm while you’re out there, my dear!” the voice of Hosea calls with familiar, parental worry and fondness, the sound causing (Y/N) to softly chuckle. 

She looks over her shoulder with a reassuring nod to the older man, the woman pushing the door open fully as she steps outside into the snow. A grimace flashes across her face as the cold bites at her cheeks and nose, her nose scrunching up as she groans softly under her breath with annoyance directed at the weather. The area was gray as it always seemed to be, the sun blocked out by clouds overhead as the wind swept through the tall pine trees. Snow rains down onto the land, though it seemed to be easing ever so slightly, the light snowfall a welcomed change from the violent storm that had welcomed them before. 

(Y/N) hugs herself as a visible shiver travels through her bones, the woman grumbling with displeasure as she lightly toes the snow at her feet. Her gaze sweeps around the area instinctively in search of Arthur, her eyes locking on his familiar figure as her features subconsciously brighten. Arthur stood at the firepit outside of the church, the brim of his hat filled with snow and the icy powder clinging to his wool coat. A cigarette was held between his gloved fingers as he lifted it to his lips for a brief moment, then lowering it as he exhaled the smoke, his eyes flicking along the area as he keeps watch. 

(Y/N) begins to approach and slows as she watches Bill heading towards the man as well wielding a rifle, the two conversing briefly as Arthur nods in what seems to be appreciation, patting Bill’s arm as the burly man heads off to walk the perimeter. Realizing Bill must’ve taken over watch duty, she continues her approach to where Arthur stood, the man glancing up at the sound of footsteps crunching the soft snow. His eyes seem to light up subtly at the sight of (Y/N), the man shifting to straighten up as he lowers his cigarette, throwing it down onto the snow as he kicks some of the powder onto it to ensure it was put out.

“Oh, look at that. Sleepin’ beauty finally wakes.” He deeply chuckles, his words teasing as he faces her, though there’s also a noticeable fondness to his tone. 

(Y/N) feels faint warmth spreading on her cheeks as she scoffs, rolling her eyes lightly as the corners of her lips curve up in an amused smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

She hugs herself lightly as she shifts to stand beside Arthur, her eyes flicking downward to the snow as Hosea and Dutch’s argument plays through her head. It was strange and… alarming to have heard Dutch truly has no plan of where they’re to go next, and she knew that they’d have to think of something soon to get themselves off this frozen mountain. Otherwise… she was sure more would die— either from the cold, or from starvation, her own stomach twisting a bit painfully, a reminder she hadn’t eaten that morning. 

“Hey,” Arthur’s surprisingly soft and even worried voice brings her from her thoughts, causing her to look up to meet his gaze, the brim of his hat dipped a bit in his eyes as he looks down at her. “What’s goin’ on through that head of yours, huh? You got that overthinkin’ face.” 

(Y/N) blinks owlishly at his words, her features softening as her gaze averts down, a weary, soft, chuckling exhale leaving her. 

“It’s nothin’, just…” She hesitates as she glances back up to Arthur, her heart clenching at the concerned, knowing look on his face. She sighs quietly, nodding towards their lodge cabin. “Dutch and Hosea had an argument. Overhead it by accident.”

Arthur’s brow furrows deeper at this as his eyes flick to the cabin, then return to her, the man sighing deeply as he turns his large frame to fully face her. 

“Saw Dutch stormin’ out not too long ago,” he mentions knowingly, his hand coming up to rub his bearded jaw.

(Y/N) nods as she frowns. “Hosea’s… he’s real worried, Arthur,” she quietly continues, the woman sighing deeply as she tries to ignore the sense of dread forming a pit in her stomach. “I don’t know. Guess I’m just worried, too.”

Arthur’s features soften with concern, his eyes watching her with a hidden emotion in their depths. “We’ll be okay,” he assures her, his voice both strong and gentle as he nods with confidence. “Dutch always figures out a plan. Just gotta trust him. We’ll be off this mountain before you know it.”

(Y/N) gazes up at Arthur with a hint of uncertainty at his reassurance, but she finds herself slowly nodding, a soft, steadying breath leaving her. His confidence and determination they would be alright was surprisingly effective despite the strange unease that remains stirring in her stomach, though she chooses to ignore it as she smiles faintly,

“Right,” she agrees as she shifts her weight on her feet, glancing down at the snow for a moment before her eyes shift to the door of the Church. “I’m gonna head in for a minute to check in on John. Did you want to—”

“ No ,” Arthur grumbles lowly before she could even finish, his tone blunt and his expression instantly becoming one of stubborn indifference and disdain at the very mention of John. 

(Y/N) blinks rapidly, her features softening with a hint of exasperation as she exhales deeply through her nose. Her brow quirks as Arthur wordlessly side-eyes her with a stern look, indicating it wouldn’t be up for debate.

Sighing, she lifts her gloved hands slightly in mock surrender. “Okay, just askin’,” she soothes with amusement. “I’ll be out in a moment.” 

She lightly and fondly rolls her eyes to herself, knowing how stubborn Arthur could be— especially in regards to John. Gently, she bumps her elbow into Athur’s arm as she walks past him, causing his perpetual scowl to soften every so slightly as he watches her head up the wooden steps. 

Arthur’s eyes remain on her as she disappears into the building, the door softly shutting behind her. The man exhales deeply as he looks around the area slowly and attentively, his hands lowering to rest on the buckle of his gun belt as he idly shifts his weight on his feet. He walks forward a few paces through the snow as he takes in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the barn area over where Simon had set up his station. The barn, while acting as a small sanctuary for their horses, was also serving as a prison for the O’Driscoll they’d picked up the night before— a fitting place for him, Arthur thinks to himself, surrounded by horse shit and half-freezing to death.

He recalls the brief interaction he had with the maggot earlier, Arthur having gone into the barn to check on his horse, Charles the primary caretaker for the animals lately. The man— Kieran, he recalled— was so adamant that the O’Driscolls would come looking for him. But Arthur could see it; the doubt and uncertainty in his eyes as his frail legs tucked inward trembled violently beneath him from the cold, much like a newborn fawn learning how to stand, as he moaned in despair over those they had killed at Mrs. Adler’s farmhouse. No one would come for him— and if they did, well… they’d be handled appropriately.

Arthur bitterly snorts to himself, shaking his head slightly to himself before looking over as the door to the Church was opened. (Y/N) steps out with a deep, thoughtful frown on her face as she snaps the buckle of her satchel shut. Noticing her expression, Arthur turns his frame as he closes the distance he’d previously walked, the man tilting his head with a furrowed brow.

“They’re starving,” (Y/N) answers his unspoken question, shaking her head to herself as she grimaces. “All of ‘em. I told Tilly I’d check in on Pearson to see if he’s got anything cooking, but…”

She glances up to the sky, noting the positioning of the sun— which indicates it’s around 9 in the morning. If Simon hadn't called them over for food yet, then it was almost certain that he was either rationing what little food remained for dinner instead, or they had none at all. Her brows pinch together as her teeth grind together subconsciously, her eyes shifting back downward. She’d given the last cans of food she had taken from Mrs. Adler’s home to those inside, and she knew they needed to do something now , or they’d all starve.

“C’mon,” Arthur’s deep, urging voice brings her from her stressed state, the woman looking upward.

(Y/N) doesn’t hesitate to follow alongside Arthur as he starts to walk through the snow with determination in each stride, the woman stepping quickly before steadying her pace to keep up with the man. It takes her a moment to realize they were approaching Simon’s setup, Arthur’s horse hitched to the post outside and pawing at the snow with his hoof lightly. Arthur reaches out to pat the horse’s thick neck as he passes the animal, weaving through the two hitching fences as (Y/N) follows after the man. 

Arthur grumbles quietly with displeasure at the particularly thick layer of snow in front of Simon’s station, the man kicking some away out of his path gently while digging his heels into the snow to create a small path behind him. (Y/N) follows as they both enter Simon’s ‘kitchen’ area, the warmth of the fire pit welcoming them and the dirt ground thankfully not caked in snow. 

Simon looks up at their approach from where he sits beside the fire pit, the large pot, usually meant for stew, sitting on the nearby workbench, only filled with some scraps of unfamiliar meat and handfuls of other edible foods. The round-bellied, rosy cheeked man coughs into his gloved fist as he slowly rises, stretching his back and exhaling deeply as he lifts his glove hands to the fire to warm them. 

“Guessin’ we ain’t having any food this morning?” (Y/N) questions rhetorically to the man as she and Arthur approach, both seeking the warmth of the fire as well. “They sent me over to ask, but… seein’ as nothing’s cooking on this fire…” She trails off meaningfully, sighing. 

Simon sighs deeply, shaking his head. “We’re gonna starve to death up here,” he mutters in a negative manner, approaching a nearby crate at the workbench area. “We have a few cans of food and a rabbit. For what— eleven, thirteen people?”

Arthur frowns deeply at this, sighing slowly through his nose as his brow furrows in thought. (Y/N) looks over to Simon as her expression tightens with worry— something that seems to be on her face quite often nowadays— her head beginning to pinch painfully with a growing headache as she reaches up to rub at her temple. 

“When I was in the Navy…” Simon starts, his voice a bit breathless due to the cold.

(Y/N) loudly groans at this as she covers her eyes with her gloved hand, Arthur snorting softly as he shakes his head.

“We— We do not wish to hear about what you got up to in the Navy, Mr. Pearson,” Arthur tells the man in a slight stammer with indifference, approaching where Simon stood.

Simon huffs as he ignores this, the man lifting the pathetic, scrawny and skinned rabbit corpse up and plopping it onto the table. He flattens the corpse, grasping his meat cleaver as he works on chopping what little meat was on the rabbit off with skill. 

“We were stranded at sea,” Simon continued despite their protests, gathering the chopped meat and dumping it into the barely filled pot. “For fifty days—”

“And you unfortunately survived,” Arthur interrupts bluntly, his tone dripping with sarcasm that draws a snicker from (Y/N) where she stood by the fire. 

Simon’s eye twitches at this as the man sighs loudly with exasperation, setting down his cleaver as he faces the two. “When we ran away from Blackwater, I wasn’t able to get supplies in,” he explains slowly with annoyance.

Arthur catches Simon’s tone, this causing him to scowl as he scoffs softly through his teeth as he watches Simon carry the pot of combined foods over to the fire pit.

“Well, when government agents are hunting you down, sometimes shopping trips need to be cut short,” he drawls back with equal sarcasm and exasperation, his hands lifting with emphasis.

(Y/N) shakes her head slightly at the two men, straightening up as she makes her way over while rubbing her arms lightly.

“Look— we can’t just sit here griping about the food situation. We have to do something,” she says calmly and evenly, looking between the two.

“Hell, we could eat him— he’s the fattest,” Arthur comments lazily with a small smirk as he motions to Simon, earning an annoyed glare by Simon and a light smack to his arm by (Y/N).

(Y/N) shakes her head, returning her focus to Simon. “I— I mean, there’s gotta be some animals up in these mountains, right? Has anyone gone out scouting?” (Y/N) questions firmly, her voice raised a bit with both exasperation and the barest hint of panic— though it was subtle, no doubt only noticed by Arthur. 

Or so she thought. Her outburst had also gained the attention of Charles, the tall man lurking outside standing alongside Arthur’s horse, Taima now hitched up beside him. Charles glances over with furrowed brows as he frowns, the man’s frame hunched over slightly from the cold as he begins to slowly and silently approach.

Simon sighs at her question, nodding slightly as he grabs a ladle to stir the slow cooking stew over the fire. “I sent Lenny and Bill hunting and they found nothing.”

(Y/N) stifles a groan under her breath, her hand rubbing at her forehead as she shakes her head. She lowers her hand and approaches the fire pit along with Arthur, Arthur lifting his hands to the fire for warmth as (Y/N) shifts a bit closer to bask in the warm air around the flames.

“You sent Bill… and Lenny?” she bluntly questions, letting out a sharp, annoyed sigh. “Bill’s a clumsy oaf— he probably scared everything off for miles belchin’ or tripping over his own two feet!” 

Arthur lets out a chortle at this, nodding in agreement. “And Lenny— he’s more into book learning than hunting. Unless those mountains is full of game that wanna read, it’s no wonder they found nothin’,” he adds.

(Y/N)’s attention shifts to the side when she detects another presence, the woman startling slightly with surprise at the sight of Charles. Much like Arthur, he was surprisingly quiet for his size, Charles standing near the edge of the fire pit as his dark eyes flick between the three, his expression stoic as usual and a hand-carved bow slung over his back.

Her eyes light up with a thought, the woman turning to face him with a small, hesitant smile. 

“Mr. Smith…” she starts in a casual, hopeful tone, causing his eyes to shift to her and narrow slightly. Undeterred by his normal scowl, she sighs softly, continuing. “You’re a skilled hunter, right? I— I mean, I never saw you in action huntin’, but, uh…” 

She clears her throat, Arthur’s gaze focused on her and Charles as he shifts a small step closer to the woman almost instinctively as a deep frown crosses his features. Something unfamiliar stirs in his chest as he side-eyes the two, his brow subconsciously furrowing. He hovers closely behind her as his eyes flick to the fire pit, though he was listening intently as his hands hovered near the flames of the fire pit.

“What I’m askin’ is, will you consider helpin’ us find something to hunt?” (Y/N) finally asks after a moment, exhaling a soft, weary laugh as she nods to his arm. “I know your hand’s injured, but Arthur and I can handle the work.”

Arthur blinks owlishly with bafflement at being volunteered, and that strange, tight feeling in his chest almost instantly evaporates at being included, the man’s head turning as his brow raises. 

“We will?” he questions with feigned annoyance and surprise, though he knew as well as (Y/N) he would’ve gone anyway just because she asked/told him to. 

“Yes, we will,” (Y/N) hisses through her teeth, her elbow jerking back and making contact with Arthur’s arm, the woman offering Charles a tight-lipped smile. “Please, Mr. Smith.”

Charles doesn’t speak for a moment, (Y/N) glancing back at Arthur as the two exchange a quick look, her head turning back to face the man in front of her. Charles lets out a quiet sigh through his nose, then he nods curtly, drawing a relieved breath from (Y/N) as her tension eases. 

“We’ll go find something,” the man mumbles quietly, nodding towards the horses hitched outside. “Come on, both of you.”

Simon sets down the ladle quickly. “Wait a second, hold on!” he urges the three, rushing over to the crate of what little supplies they had. “Here.” 

The man sniffles as he rises holding a can, approaching (Y/N) and offering it to her with an encouraging nod. 

“You’re gonna need something to eat out there,” he points out.

(Y/N) tilts her head slightly as she reaches out to take the can, turning it around so she could read the old label on the front. Her face falls as she blinks slowly while grimacing, Arthur peering over with a raised brow as Charles observes her reaction as well with a small, curious frown.

“ Assorted, Salted Offal ,” Arthur reads slowly, his brow furrowing as his nose slowly scrunches up.

“Oh…” (Y/N) groans quietly before stifling it with a tight-lipped smile, nodding as she slowly tucks the can into her satchel. “I— I appreciate… it, Mr. Pearson, thank you.”

Arthur snorts at this while rolling his eyes, the corner of his lip curving up in a faint, amused smirk. “Starvin’ would be preferable,” he mumbles as he shakes his head.

Charles sighs softly as he shakes his head, though there was a faint hint of amusement on the man’s face as he turned to walk out. 

“Come on. Let’s go,” he urges, his voice husky and soft as usual. “If there’s game in those hills, I’ll find it.” 

The confidence in Charle’s voice is reassuring, (Y/N) feeling that uncomfortable, tight sensation in her chest easing as they make their way towards the horses hitched a few feet away in the snow. Simon watches the three leave, quietly coughing from the cold as he lowers to sit in a chair near the slow-cooking stew over the fire. 

Arthur walks alongside (Y/N) closely, his eyes observing her with a hint of protectiveness as his hand hovers near her back, ready to stable her if she were to trip in the thick, fresh snow beneath their boots. As they near the horses, Arthur bends down slightly to be more evenly-heighted with (Y/N).

“Ride with me,” Arthur lowly mumbles into (Y/N)’s ear, his hand still hovering near her back— not quite touching, but close enough to steady her if needed.

(Y/N) jumps lightly at his unexpected proximity and at the sound of his deep voice in her ear, her eyes widening as her heart skips a beat. She swallows thickly as she tries to ignore the strange, fluttering sensation of her heart, her head nodding in both acknowledgment and agreement. Arthur’s features soften as a small, almost prideful smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, the man slowly straightening up to his full height once more as they reach the horses. 

The snow, while still an annoyance, falls a bit softer than it had in the previous days, the white flakes clinging to the three’s coats and piling along the saddles and manes of the two horses hitched to the post. Charles approaches Taima as the horse softly nickers in greeting, the man’s features softening as his large hand extends to stroke her neck. (Y/N) and Arthur walk around the man and his horse as they approach Arthur’s, Arthur stepping closer to the side of the animal as he looks to (Y/N). 

Nodding with encouragement for her to mount the horse, (Y/N) steps forward with a quick glance towards the man. Her hand reaches up to grasp the horn of the saddle as the toe of her boot slides into the stirrup, Arthur stepping a small step closer. His hands reach out and gently grasp her waist, his touch delicate and barely there as he guides her upward onto the back of the horse. 

(Y/N)’s leg swings over the backside of the horse with familiar ease, her eyes shifting to Arthur with a flicker of gratitude and something akin to fondness at his actions. She knew as well as he did that she could climb onto the horse herself, as she’d been doing it for years now— but he was always a gentleman, even if he was also an outlaw. Arthur softly clears his throat as he averts his eyes away from her amused stare, the brim of his hat covering his eyes as heat begins to creep up onto his cheeks, his hand reaching over to untie the reins from the hitching post. 

“Here— take this,” the voice of Charles causes (Y/N) to glance down to her right, her eyes quickly blinking with surprise as he holds up the bow that’d been slung around his back.

(Y/N) slowly reaches down to take the bow, her touch careful and gentle— as if she’d break it if she were too rough handling it. 

“Are you sure?” she questions apprehensively, noticing the fine detailing in the wood.

“I can make another when my hand heals,” Charles grumbles back in response, his tone assured and unwavering with his decision. “Keep it.” He turns to Taima, pulling another bow that had been attached to her saddle free. “And you,” he continues, lifting the bow over Arthur’s horse towards the man. “You’ll have to use it,” he adds bluntly, noticing Arthur’s raised brow.

“Oh, you’re joking,” Arthur quietly mutters under his breath with disbelief, reaching out and hesitantly taking the offered bow. 

He looks over the bow with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, the man slowly sliding it over his shoulder as (Y/N) lowers the bow to hang carefully off the side of his horse. Charles gathers a generous bundle of arrows from a pack on Taima’s saddle, the man walking around her as he slides them into the saddlebag of Arthur’s horse for him and (Y/N) to have and use.

“Use a gun, and we’ll scare off every animal for miles around,” Charles calmly explains, grunting softly with effort as he uses his one good hand to pull his weight up onto the back of Taima. 

Taima holds steady with a soft snort as Charles adjusts his weight on her saddle, the man grasping her reins with his good hand as he nods over to (Y/N) and Arthur.

“Makes sense,” (Y/N) replies with interest and agreement. 

Arthur grabs onto the saddle and pulls himself up in a quick, smooth motion, his arms loosely wrapped around (Y/N) as his hands pick up the reins. 

“You’re never too old to learn,” Charles continues as he observes Arthur, noticing he still seemed wary of using the bow as a soft, somewhat amused look crosses his features. “I imagine,” he adds, his tone holding a surprising teasing quality to it. 

This draws a soft, bitter and amused exhale to leave Arthur as he shakes his head, (Y/N) smiling faintly to herself as she rests her hands on the horn of the saddle. Arthur deeply sighs as he feels the gentle, comforting pressure of (Y/N)’s back leaning trustingly against his chest, his heart feeling as though it were being squeezed— but in a good, strange way that was growing increasingly common when she was near.

“Alright— let’s head out,” Charles calls softly to Arthur, patting Taima’s neck in an affectionate manner before straightening up.

Arthur’s attention shifts from the woman in his arms to Charles as the man guides Taima away from the post and onto the main trail, Arthur turning his own horse with a soft, encouraging sound for him to follow. His horse quietly snorts, but obeys, Arthur urging the beast quicker to match Taima’s pace as they walk alongside each other through the snow. 

“How’ve you been, Mr. Smith?” (Y/N) questions conversationally, though there was genuine concern in her voice. 

Charles’s eyes briefly flick over at her question, his attention returning ahead as his sharp eyes scan the trees. “I’m okay. Apart from this hand.” He exhales sharply and bitterly, scowling down at his bandaged palm. “Stupid mistake.”

“Still bad?” Arthur asks gruffly, guiding his horse alongside Taima as they trot alongside the icy stream. 

Charles shrugs a shoulder dismissively. “It’ll be fine in a day or two. I just can’t pull a bow right now.”

Following Charles, the two horses quickly cross through the water, Arthur’s horse lowly neighing with a hint of protest as his ears flick back for a moment. However, he quickly settles as he steps back onto solid land, ice clinging to the two horse's hooves as they continue on through the untouched snow ahead.

“Here’s hopin’ I can. I never really learned,” (Y/N) says with both amusement and uncertainty, her eyes shifting down to the bow strapped to the horse’s side onto the saddle. “Neither did Arthur.”

“You two’ll be fine,” Charles declares in response , his tone both blunt and surprisingly confident. 

Arthur’s eyes shift to Charles with a faint flicker of gratitude at the assurance, as well as surprise, Charles’ lack of faith and positivity refreshing in the recent, disheartening days they’ve had to deal with. His eyes scan around the area briefly as they continue on, the terrain snowy as per normal and the snow completely untouched. 

The two men guide their horses down a small incline following the stream, (Y/N) softly yawning as she allows herself to slowly lean back against Arthur’s strong frame. The man almost instantly notices, but he says nothing, though there was a distinct flush to his tanned, stubbled cheeks that wasn’t just from the icy weather biting at them.

Arthur inhales deeply through his teeth, grimacing at the cold as he slowly sighs. “So… you reckon we’re gonna find something to kill that ain’t an O’Driscoll?”

Charles lets out a wry laugh at this. “There’s meat up here for sure,” he promises with certainty, his eyes constantly flicking around the area. “Pearson doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” 

(Y/N) chortles softly under her breath, nodding. “I figured as much. Land seems pretty decent for animals to live on, ‘specially with the streams close by for fresh water.” 

Charles’ eyes flick over with a hint of surprise at her words, though he doesn’t comment on it, his features softening slowly as he turns his gaze forward once more with a curt nod. 

“Now that the weather’s eased off a bit, they’ll be needing to feed, too,” he adds quietly in agreement. His eyes flick up the upcoming hillside to their left, a thoughtful look crossing his features. “We’ll head up this way— find some higher ground.” 

With that, Charles steers Taima off the path, Arthur guiding his horse after him as the two animals begin to make their way up the slanted hill. The pine trees stand tall over the three as Charles and Arthur guide their horses to weave through them on occasion, (Y/N) comfortable and relaxed as she observes the area.

“It’s so… quiet out here. It’s a nice change of pace,” she says with appreciation, her voice soft, as to not startle any potential creatures nearby in the silent forest. 

Arthur finds himself nodding in agreement, a weary breath leaving him. “Been a wild few days, alright,” he agrees. “That ride north from Blackwater… gettin’ stuck in this storm …” He shakes his head. “Goin’ out for John… and you ,” he pointedly adds in a growl, glaring down at the top of her head half-heartedly.

(Y/N) sheepishly chuckles, not needing to look back to see the glare of disapproval he was no doubt giving her— though she knew it was more teasing than anything. 

“Not to mention clearin’ out that O’Driscoll camp,” she chimes in, exhaustion evident in her voice as she sighs softly. 

Charles’ features soften at this with sympathy, the man’s broad shoulders hunched slightly due to the icy chill. “You’ve both had a lot put on you,” he agrees with compassion and worry. “I wish I could’ve done more.” 

(Y/N) detects the bitterness to his words, recognizing the man no doubt feels as if he is more a burden than helpful at the moment. 

“Don’t you worry about that. You’ve done a lot already for us, Mr. Smith,” she assures, shaking her head. “Hell, you’re doing more than most of the men back at camp are right now, too, burned hand and all. Tendin’ to our horses, helpin’ us find game out here… we appreciate you.” 

Arthur feels himself smiling faintly at her assurance, the woman always having a way to uplift those around her— including himself. “She’s right,” he agrees, nodding slightly as he guides his horse to steady out. 

Charles quietly exhales at this, his expression unreadable as he takes in her earnest words of gratitude and Arthur’s agreement. “Just… doing what I can,” he quietly mumbles, seeming unaccustomed to gratitude. 

“That’s all we can ask for,” (Y/N) replies with a lighthearted tone, her attention shifting downward. She sighs softly, her smile slowly softening to a look of wistful sadness.  “It’s… a little strange, thinkin’ just a week ago we were all… doing fine near Blackwater. Everyone… alive,” she speaks with a softened, saddened voice, her heart aching at the thought of those they lost. 

Charles looks over at this, his brow furrowing deeply. “I still don’t know what happened on that boat,” he states with a hardened, uncertain tone— not directed at her , but the situation. 

Arthur’s jaw clenches as he recalls the vagueness of what Javier had told him, his arms subconsciously closing around (Y/N). 

“We don’t, either,” Arthur replies with exasperated irritation, hating that they had not been there. “Well—” He stifles a sigh, shaking his head. “Javier… told me a bit, but… it sure weren’t good.”

Charles’ face hardens with growing interest and concern at Arthur’s words, (Y/N) frowning deeply as her hand idly strokes along the neck of Arthur’s horse. He had told her of what Javier had said when the two men were searching for her and John, and it only left her feeling more unsettled and uneasy. Part of her wanted to demand answers from Dutch, but another was whispering, reminding her that he never did anything without a reason. It was always for the good of the group, for the safety of others. She’d be a fool to doubt or question him, especially when he was as sensitive as he was at the moment. 

Sighing, her eyes shift up, her hand reaching out to gently rest over one of Arthur’s grasping the rein in front of her. 

“Hope you at least slept better last night.” Her words were quiet and soft, meant only for Arthur to hear, her tone tinged with concern and something else the man couldn’t quite place. 

Arthur’s heart stutters in his chest at the mention of the night before, the man swallowing thickly as his light eyes shift down to her hand resting on his own. His back did feel better than it had in the last few days, and if he were honest, that was the most rest he had gotten in a long while. He didn’t know the last time he had slept fully through a night like he did sleeping with her held in his arms. 

The memory of her warmth and how pleasant it had been to hold her was still burned fresh into his mind, and he doubted he’d forget it soon, a strange unfamiliar sense of giddiness at the thought of doing it again tonight filling him. But he didn’t want to assume, so he tried to force it down, scolding himself for thinking like a teenage boy.

“Yeah…” he huskily agrees, clearing his throat with a wince as turns his head to stare at a particularly interesting tree. “Slept fine, darlin’. Thank you,” he simply says rather than speaking of what was on his mind, hoping his voice sounded more casual than he felt. 

(Y/N) smiles softly to herself at this, warmth blooming along her cheeks as she nods her head wordlessly. Her hand gently squeezes Arthur’s through their gloves before she slowly pulls it back, Arthur’s hand twitching on the horse’s rein with the urge to grab it. But he refrains, his jaw ticking as he shakes his head to himself in a scolding manner, huffing deeply at his growing lack of impulse control.

A small, almost comfortable silence falls over the three as (Y/N) takes in the increasingly familiar area, part of her wishing it wasn’t becoming common in her mind. The pine trees, while beautiful, filled her with a sense of unease, as she didn’t like the fact anything could be lurking within their shadows. The cold didn’t help her nerves either, as she knew if the weather became as bad as it did days ago, they’d be forced to either remain put or try their luck blundering around in the thick fog that covers the land. Neither option seemed preferable. 

While she did find herself thinking more of the negatives of nature's surroundings, she also could appreciate the beauty of it all. She’d never seen so much snow before, the powder seeming to sparkle in the light of the sun— the brief moments it showed itself, that is— and the air, while icy, smelled unique and fresh, still untouched by the stench of the growing factories in some of the towns they’d encountered before. It was pure. 

-

Fog begins to thicken along the area the higher they travel along the land, yet the snowfall was still surprisingly gentle as it rained down onto the three as they traverse through the snow. The horses trot along the stream side by side as the silence continues, only filled by the sound of the rushing water and the occasional, gentle gust of wind that greets them. After a few more minutes of following along the trail, Charles gently tugs on Taima’s reins to slow her from a trot to a walk, his eyes scanning along the ground intensely with focus.

“There’s some patches of grass here. This is good,” Charles points out with approval, nodding to himself. “Come on. Let’s try this way,” he urges, steering Taima off the path once more and guiding her towards the thicker brush of the forest. “Keep your eyes peeled for movement.”

Arthur doesn’t question the man, guiding his own horse after him and Taima as his eyes shift around the area. (Y/N) slowly straightens up as she also looks around, her gaze flicking upward as she notices the sunlight beginning to finally peek through the dark clouds overhead. The sunlight is a welcomed change, a soft sigh of relief leaving her as the snowfall becomes delicate and light. The horses keep close to the stream as they continue on, the sound of the water surprisingly pleasant.

“The wind’s died down, too,” Charles says as he looks up, noticing only a faint breeze rather than the devastating winds they had been dealing with. 

Arthur’s attention shifts to Charles as he frowns with a raised brow. “And that’s good?”

Charles nods his head without glancing back. “No wind at all is bad, but if it’s too strong, they won’t move.” He looks around with an air of confidence, the man clearly comfortable in this familiar setting. “Now, shh. Keep quiet,” he softly murmurs. 

He guides Taima into the stream as Arthur follows, (Y/N) looking down at the crystal clear water before her eyes shift back upward to scan the trees for any sign of movement as Charles had instructed. The horses keep a steady, quick pace as they trot along the stream, the stream helping with covering the sound of their steps. The sunlight feels pleasant and warm despite the chill in the air, the land beginning to look more alive the further they go. 

“Hey. Stop here a second,” Charles speaks quietly and quickly, slowing Taima as Arthur does the same to his own horse. “I see something.”

Charles exhales softly as he dismounts from Taima, the man rounding the animal as he walks forward a few paces before coming to a stop while observing the snow. He squats down lowly, his uninjured hand reaching up to adjust the brim of his hat.

(Y/N) peers over the side of Arthur’s horse with curious interest. “Tracks?”

Charles doesn’t reply for a moment, but he slowly nods. Arthur’s hands release the reins of his horse, one reaching out to grasp the horn of the saddle in front of (Y/N). He uses it for leverage as he carefully dismounts from his own horse, (Y/N)’s head turning to watch him as he walks over to where Charles stood. Arthur lowers onto his knee beside Charles, his eyes flicking along the area. (Y/N), not wanting to be left out, dismounts the horse as well, her hand gently stroking the beast’s neck as she grabs the bow given to her by Charles. She grabs a handful of arrows as well for herself and Arthur, approaching where the two men were lowered.

“There’s deer been here… recently,” Charles mumbles under his breath to the two.

Arthur’s eyes squint as he observes the snow, his brow pinching slightly. “How can ya tell?” 

Charles’ lips twitch with amusement. “How can you not?” he questions in response. 

(Y/N) shifts closer as she lowers down slowly, a thoughtful frown on her face as she slings the bow over her shoulder. She tucks a few arrows into her satchel, the feathered ends sticking out a bit, and hands the rest to Arthur, who does the same without taking his eyes off the ground. Charles observes (Y/N) and Arthur for a moment before sighing deeply through his nose, his hand lifting as he points along a noticeable, faint trail leading deeper into the trees.

“See?” he urges begrudgingly— though there was little actual heat to it and more so what seemed to be uncomfortableness. 

Arthur only stares back at Charles blanky with a small frown as he adjusts the bow on his back, (Y/N)’s eyes shifting along the snow as her lips press together, her expression somewhat sheepish. While she could see faint tracks left in the snow, they seemed the same as any other animal’s tracks in her mind, and she certainly couldn’t tell how the man knew the tracks were recent. If she had to guess, it was due to how deep they were in the snow and not covered by the snowfall. But that was just a guess.

Charles sighs deeply once more with a hint of exasperation, but he says nothing, only shaking his head to himself as he rises. Arthur rises as well, (Y/N) following suit as Charles takes the lead.

“Come on. Keep down, and move quietly and slowly,” he tells the two, his voice low and murmured as he keeps his eyes on the tracks while lowering back down. “Can you see the tracks?” he asks after a moment, glancing back at the two. 

(Y/N) nods slowly, tilting her head as she squats down as well. “I do. Can’t tell them apart from another animal’s, but…”

Arthur shrugs a shoulder as he lowers as well, frowning as his brow furrows deeper. “I think I do, too.” He sighs, shaking his head slightly. “Maybe not.” 

Charles beckons the two closer, lifting his chin forward for emphasis as he stares at the tracks. “Focus. Keep your head down. You’ll see them.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes flick to Charles, the woman feeling a hint of surprise the man seemed to be teaching them rather than simply taking the lead. It was unusual— but in a good way, as she figured most wouldn’t be bothered to try to teach two grown adults how to track. Looking back downward, she looks along the tracks, noting how they seemed more prominent further ahead. Arthur grunts quietly to himself with a hint of frustration as his eyes scan the snow, but his features soften with surprise when he manages to spot them as well, the man feeling a little foolish he hadn’t seen them earlier, but pleased he actually found them

“It’s easier to find them in the snow,” Charles continues with approval, noticing that their eyes seemed to have found them. “But once you get your eye in, you’ll both be able to track nearly as well in grass and woods.” He nods ahead with encouragement. “I’ll follow.” 

(Y/N) and Arthur exchange an equally uncertain, apprehensive look, the woman clearing her throat and nodding in response as she turns ahead. Her eyes lower down as she begins to slowly move forward, trying to keep her steps light in the snow, which thankfully helps to muffle each step. She has to squint to see the tracks as the sun shines on the snow, the snow almost blinding as she lifts a hand over her eyes to try to shield the glare. 

Arthur’s elbow gently bumps into her arm, causing her to glance at him in silent question as he motions with his chin up ahead. The brim of his hat shields the sunlight with ease as he takes the lead, Charles observing the two working together with curious eyes and even a hint of approval as they follow the tracks at a slow, steady pace. 

Twigs of leafless bushes stick out of the snow at random, a few stray patches of grass peeking out of the powder and shifting slightly with the light breeze. Snow continues to silently fall, (Y/N) and Arthur moving together as Charles continues following, his steps silent. The rushing water of the stream fills (Y/N)’s ears as she takes her eyes off the tracks to look around, trusting Arthur to keep on the trail as she searches for any sudden movement. A slight shift in the distance against the stillness of the trees gains her attention, her eyes drawn to the movement instinctively.

A soft, surprised and gentle gasp escapes her when she spots the outline of an animal between the trees, her expression brightening and her eyes widening with awe and delight at the sight of a buck standing a good distance away. The buck was large in size, his coat a deep brown and the antlers on his head tall and proud. She could see the buck’s breath as he snorted softly, his ear flicking as he glanced around warily before walking forward slowly. Arthur looks back at her gasp with narrowed eyes, though he relaxes when he notices there was no danger, his eyes following hers to the buck.

“Good eye,” Charles mumbles in praise as he shuffles closer, nodding as he observes the buck. “Let’s move up a little closer. Keep low, and quiet.”

(Y/N) looks to Charles with a nod before slowly creeping forward, Charles following alongside her as his eyes watch their footing ahead for any twigs or roots sticking out of the ground. Arthur follows along as well, his attention occasionally shifting around the area habitually for any sign of danger— animal or otherwise.

Charles lifts a hand partially in a sign to stop, (Y/N) noticing and slowing as she shifts her weight quietly, her knee lowering to rest in the snow for balance as she draws her bow. Arthur stops as well as he leans his forearm onto his knee, his other hand lifting to adjust the hat on his head. Charles nods towards her bag as she looks down to the satchel, her fingers grasping an arrow carefully and lifting it. 

She wasn’t completely clueless— the woman observing the feathered end of the arrow for a moment before slowly notching it onto the string of the bow. It took a moment, but she was able to do it, her features lighting up with a hint of relief and even joy as she lifted her eyes to Charles. 

“Draw the string back. Using three fingers is easier than two. Keeps the strain on the string consistent,” Charles instructs quietly, watching the buck closely for any sign of the animal noticing them. “Pointer on top, middle and ring below the arrow.”

(Y/N) nods with a look of interest and curiosity as she slowly draws the arrow back, the wood of the bow bending with the pressure. The arrow trembles lightly as she aims the direction of the buck, her expression tightening with focus. Charles reaches over, stabling her arm and lowering her lifted elbow to a more comfortable and more stable level, the man looking over her form with a thoughtful frown. Arthur watches intently, knowing Charles was using this moment to no doubt teach the both of them rather than just her.

“Not too much tension,” Charles softly murmurs, his eye critical of every small detail as he shifts closer to view where her arrow was pointing. “Aim a bit higher, and keep your aim steady. Always try to aim for the neck or head for a clean and quick kill. Hold your breath. Exhale on release.”

He watches as she corrects her form, the woman steadily releasing a breath before holding it as she takes careful aim. Her eyes squint slightly as she lines the arrow up with the buck in the distance, the buck’s head lowering down as he grazes on some blades of grass. Her fingers remain curled around the bow’s string as she holds the arrow steady, her other hand’s finger outstretched and lined along the tip of the arrow to correct and guide it.

“Good. Fire.”

(Y/N) trusts the man and releases the arrow on command, the woman wincing slightly at the unfamiliar sound of the arrow whistling past her ear as it flies. She watches with bated breath as the arrow soars through the air, the buck looking up just as the arrow pierces through his neck. A choked cry leaves the buck as a reaction, but he quickly goes down, the kill quick and painless as his form topples over with a soft thud in the snow. A sharp, surprised exhale leaves her as her eyes widen, the woman lowering the bow. Arthur’s features soften with a proud smile, the man nodding as (Y/N) turns to look at him.

“Clean kill,” Charles comments with a hint of pride, grunting softly as he rises from his crouched position. 

Arthur nods once more in hearty agreement, rising as well as she does the same. “Nicely done. Don’t know if I’d have been able to do that,” he drawls with amusement. 

Charles huffs softly at this with a faint smile. “You will do it. We’re getting another,” he declares matter-of-factly, tilting his head back towards the area they had left behind. “Tracks aren’t too far. We can come back for the buck— won’t be long enough for it to hurt it.”

(Y/N) snorts softly at the way Arthur’s face falls, the man clearly not having expected to be forced to hunt by Charles, who seems to have dubbed himself their short-term teacher. Though, she knew it was a good skill for them to have— especially now that they were roaming the land without a true goal in mind. Sighing deeply with mock exasperation, Arthur nods begrudgingly, turning and making his way back the way they’d came as Charles and (Y/N) follow, (Y/N) quietly chuckling.

-

It doesn’t take long to discover the tracks once more, (Y/N) following alongside Charles as Arthur leads them. He observes the area while ensuring that he doesn’t lose the tracks beneath his feet, the man walking through two tall pine trees before slowing to a stop. He lifts his hand, causing Charles and (Y/N) to stop as well, Charles slowly shuffling closer to be lowered beside Arthur. In the distance, a lone doe stood at the edge of the stream, her head dipped down as she drank from the icy waters. Her head lifts as she paws at the snow with a hoof, her head lowering once more as she begins to nibble at a small patch of grass she’d discovered.

Arthur, having witnessed Charles helping (Y/N), lifts the bow readily as he notches the arrow. He draws the string back and lines the feathered end with his eye, the man unblinking as he aims the arrow at the doe. Charles watches silently with what seems to be impressed approval at his form, nodding his head once. Taking the hint, Arthur fires the arrow, the arrow gliding through the air swiftly. The arrow pierces through the doe’s underjaw, her form falling over silently into the snow, the kill, as (Y/N)’s had been, quick and clean.

“Good work,” Charles approves with a faint smile, nodding his head as he rises. “That should be plenty of meat for now.”

“Nice, Arthur,” (Y/N) praises with a nod, the man clearing his throat as his eyes avert down almost sheepishly.

(Y/N) smiles with relief, that tight, stress-inducing sensation that had been in her chest loosening as she sighs softly. She rises and brushes the snow off of her knee, Arthur glancing back with a thoughtful look before turning to face Charles.

“I’ll grab the horses and the buck (Y/N) got,” Arthur tells Charles gruffly, not wanting the man to strain himself too much by carrying the heavier of the two animals. “Wait here.”

Charles nods at this, a hint of appreciation flickering in his eyes. (Y/N) watches as Arthur turns and makes his way back the direction of the horses and buck, the woman turning to where the corpse of the doe laid as she begins to make her way over. She shifts the bow to be more secure over her shoulder, the woman readying herself to lift the weight of the doe, but is stopped by Charles lowering down near the corpse.

“I got it,” he tells her, his voice low and certain as he observes the doe for a moment.

(Y/N) frowns at this with worry, her brow furrowing as she shifts closer with her hands lifted slightly. “Are you sure? Your hand—”

She’s cut off by Charles grunting with effort as he lifts the corpse up, his arm wound securely and a bit awkwardly around the doe’s torso. He drapes it onto his shoulder, his injured, bandaged hand hovering near the backside of the corpse in case he loses his grip as he steadies it on his shoulder, exhaling deeply and straightening up.

“... I suppose you are sure,” she slowly comments, exhaling an impressed, amused breath.

Charles quietly grunts in response, though she notices the corner of his mouth twitches upward with amusement. The large man shifts his weight on his feet, his arm curled around the doe’s back to keep it secure against his broad shoulder.

(Y/N) softly clears her throat as she observes the area, her gloved hands rubbing together lightly. “Thank you again for helpin’ us, Mr. Smith,” she thanks genuinely, her voice quiet— as to not disturb the tranquil surroundings of nature around them. “And really— don’t worry about needing time for your hand to heal up. We all understand.”

Charles’ eyes shift to the woman as he watches her for a moment, what seems to be apprehension lingering in their dark depths as he regards her. However, his features slowly begin to soften as he looks away, shrugging his free shoulder in a small motion

“I’ll try not to,” he mumbles back quietly, adjusting his grip on the doe over his shoulder. A moment of silence passes, the man clearing his throat. “You and Arthur are better at this than I thought you’d be,” he comments.

A surprised snort leaves (Y/N) at his blunt words, the woman smiling with amusement. “Yeah, I’m surprised, too. Didn’t think I’d actually hit the buck.” She shakes her head with a small, proud smile. “Takes a lot more work and skill to use a bow over a gun, but it’s worth it.”

Approval and agreement flash along Charles’ features as he wordlessly nods his head, (Y/N) continuing to observe the area around them— both in awe, and habitually in search of anything that may pose a threat. The sound of a horse whinny causes the two to look up, Arthur approaching on the back of his horse, the buck strapped securely on the horse’s rear. Taima trots alongside them, her ears perked forward and a nicker leaving her as she spots Charles.

“Let’s head on back,” Charles tells the two as he approaches Taima, grunting lightly as he throws the doe over the horse’s rear. 

“Sounds good,” (Y/N) agrees eagerly, her stomach twisting and mouth watering at the thought of food— even if Simon’s stew left much to be desired. 

She makes her way towards Arthur, perking up visibly as Arthur lowers his arm with his hand outstretched. Her brow raises slightly, but he grunts and jerks his head towards himself with encouragement, causing her to frown with uncertainty, but oblige to his silent words. 

(Y/N) reaches out, her hand grasping Arthur’s forearm as her other hand reaches out to hold onto his bicep, her gloved fingers curling tightly around the muscle through the thick sleeve of his coat. She braces herself, Arthur’s muscle flexing beneath her palms as he lifts her upward off the ground with ease. Her free hand reaches out to grasp the horn of the saddle for leverage, Arthur’s free hand reaching out and steadying her as she swings her leg over the backside of the horse, mindful to not kick Arthur in the process. 

Arthur’s hips shift back slightly to make room as she lowers to settle in front of him, though the large buck strapped to the back of the horse makes it a bit difficult to truly give her room, the space between them nonexistent. He swallows thickly as he tries to control his rapidly beating heart rate, the man grateful it was cold, as he could dismiss the reddening of his cheeks on the weather. His horse shifts and adjusts to the weight on him with a low neigh, a snort leaving the animal as Arthur urges him to follow after Charles and Taima, who have taken the lead heading back along the stream. 

“Nice work, you two,” Charles calls back to the two in praise, guiding Taima beside the stream. “Should be enough meat here to keep us all fed for a few days.”

“You found ‘em,” Arthur points out in response, never one to truly accept praise or gratitude. 

Charles chuckles quietly, shaking his head before sighing softly with contentment. “I knew you’d both be okay with those bows.”

(Y/N) smiles faintly at this, the woman sliding the bow off and attaching it against the saddle of the horse. “Had a good teacher,” she replies lightheartedly. “Don’t know how good I’d be with it aside from hunting. Deer don’t shoot back.”

This gains another laugh from Charles, the man nodding in agreement. 

“We’ve seen enough of that,” he states with weariness. 

Arthur looks ahead as he urges his horse to walk alongside Charles and Taima, the horses keeping a quick, steady pace as the snow continues to fall around them.

“Considerin’ how things were lookin’ a couple of days back…” Arthur trails off for a moment, allowing a small, faint smile to grace his features. “Well, maybe our luck is finally on the turn.”

Charles hums at this lowly, his lips pressing together. “Seems to me we should be putting our effort into getting off this mountain now.”

“Give it another day or so,” (Y/N) softly speaks, nodding her head slowly as she frowns. “Everyone’s still pretty exhausted and… I think the wagons are still snowed in. I don’t enjoy the thought of digging them out. We need more thaw.” 

Charles guides Taima to cross the river, Arthur doing the same with his own horse as the sun continues to shine down on the three. Snowflakes flurry occasionally, but their cold holds less bite, the snow slowly melting off their clothing thanks to the bright rays of the sunlight.

A sigh leaves Charles. “You’re probably right. And…” He hesitates, frowning deeply with a furrowed brow. “Even if we do get off here, what then? We’ll still have a big price on our heads.”

(Y/N) exhales slowly from her nose, nodding slowly and grimly at his familiar worry that matches her own. “Hosea… and Strauss were talkin’ of going further east.”

“This is a big country. We’ll find somewhere to lie low,” Arthur speaks with confidence and assurance, steering his horse up along the slanted hillside alongside Charles and Taima. “Dutch and Hosea will have a better plan by then.” 

(Y/N) finds Arthur’s words comforting, the firm and unwavering faith held in his tone causing her frame to slowly relax. She hadn’t even realized she’d been so tensed up, her shoulders a little stiff. She sighs deeply and slowly, as if to breathe out her stress, and nods in agreement with a small smile. Charles glances over silently, seeming to be deep in thought as his gaze slowly returns forward. A soft, bitter chortle leaves Arthur, breaking the momentary silence that had settled over the three.

“Y’all notice how Pearson’s had a bottle in his hand ever since we fled Blackwater?” he questions, his voice both amused and annoyed. “We give the camp cook five minutes— more time than you and I had— to grab the essentials and go, and he doesn’t even bring a crumb of food.”

(Y/N) looks up in thought at this, her brow furrowing as she realizes the truth of his words. “Huh. I guess I hadn’t really thought of that. The hell was Pearson doin’ that whole time?” she mumbles rhetorically, shaking her head.

“Good thing we caught more than one,” Charles points out, nodding as the horses continue along the path through the snow. “We’ve only been up here a few days and already picked up two more mouths to feed.”

Arthur’s eyes harden. “ One more,” he growls back lowly and firmly. “We ain’t feedin’ the O’Driscoll a damn thing.” He glances down at the top of (Y/N)’s head. “Except maybe that can of salted offal Pearson was kind enough to give ya, darlin’.” 

“Naw, that’s mine. O’Driscoll’s out of luck,” (Y/N) replies back with mock seriousness, earning an amused snort to leave Arthur, the man smirking proudly.

Charles looks down in thought for a moment. “The girl…” He lifts his gaze, shaking his head. “She has a wild look in her eye.”

“I don’t blame her,” (Y/N) comments in return, sighing softly with a sympathetic frown. “She lost everything. Her husband, her home— though…” Her tone hardens with annoyance, “That was more Micah’s fault than the O’Driscoll’s.”

Charles quietly hums under his breath contemplatively. “So what do we do with her?”

“Once we get out of here, and we’re back on our feet, we’ll see,” Arthur replies back with a deep, weary breath. “She might have family somewhere.”

A small smirk tugs at Charles’ lips. “Who knows, maybe she’ll deal with the O’Driscoll for us.”

Arthur lets out an amused chuckle at this, the sound rumbling deeply in his chest. (Y/N)’s brow lifts as she hums, rolling her eyes lightly— though she knew it was all in good fun.

“I believe she could,” she says confidently. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Arthur assures with playfulness. “I know who my money’s on in that fight.” He shakes his head. “He’s weak, but… that makes him much more useful. Maybe we can get to them before they get to us.”

Charles considers this for a moment, the man adjusting his grip on Taima’s reins as the horses trot alongside one another through an open clearing. The snow was now falling a bit harder than before, the sunlight that had momentarily graced them slowly disappearing behind the gray clouds lurking overhead.

“What is it with the O’Driscolls?” Charles questions curiously. 

(Y/N)’s eyebrows raise for a moment, her features softened with surprise that fades into understanding. “I forget you haven’t encountered them before, considerin’ they’ve been out here and it’s only been a few months since you’ve joined us.”

“I’ve heard a lot of talk about them,” Charles replies with a nod, frowning. 

“Well…” Arthur lets out a deep sigh. “We’ve been scrapping over scores with them for years. A big gang, nasty sons of bitches.” His tone was hardened with disdain, his nose scrunched. “Their leader, Colm, and Dutch go way back. And not in a good way. A proper blood feud.”

Charles nods slowly with understanding, his expression hardened. “So I’ve heard.” 

(Y/N) nods once with a deep frown, her eyes shifting upward as she notices the area becoming darkened once more due to the lack of sunlight. She wished the sunlight had stayed longer, and she couldn’t wait until they were off the mountain so it could properly greet them once again. A small silence falls over the three as their horses continue through the slowly thickening snow, the area becoming familiar once again as they follow the path along the stream.

“Watch out!” Charles sharply hisses, gently but firmly tugging Taima’s reins to halt the horse. 

This startles (Y/N), the woman jumping slightly and tensing as she looks around with sharpened eyes, her hand instinctively hovering near her revolver at her side. Arthur yanks his own horse into a stop, his expression stern and wary as he also looks around, one of his hands subconsciously having lowered to rest on (Y/N)’s side in a protective gesture. Taima lets out an anxious snort as she shifts her weight, her ears pinning back as she stares ahead. A low nicker leaves her, Arthur’s horse beginning to become agitated quickly, his own ears pinning back. 

“Bear up ahead,” Charles lowly mutters in warning, keeping his voice down as he strokes Taima’s neck soothingly. 

True to his word, a massive grizzly rounds a pine tree standing near the edge of the freezing lake. His dark, copper fur was caked in a layer of snow and ice, the bear large in size and his movement sluggish— but if hunting, (Y/N) knew it’d be swift despite the size of him. 

“Let’s see if we can find another way around,” Charles urges the two, watching the bear apprehensively with narrowed eyes as he gently urges Taima into a steady walk forward. “He must be real hungry. Stay well back.”

Arthur glances down at (Y/N) with worry to check if she was at ease, the man realizing his hand was on her waist. Clearing his throat, he hastily removes it and returns it to the horse’s reins, his expression hardened and sheepish as he guides his horse after Taima and Charles. As his horse attempts to steer away from the bear’s direction, Arthur lowly murmurs in a soothing manner to his agitated horse, encouraging him forward with another tap of his heels.

“Spring storms like this are the worst for animals that sleep all winter,” Charles quietly mumbles under his breath, frowning sympathetically as he watches the wild animal.

The bear in the distance doesn’t seem to notice the three or their horses as he stomps around, his snout lowered to the ground as he seems to search for something. The sound of the bear’s quiet roars and growls was audible even from their distance, Charles guiding Taima forward slowly with Arthur following alongside him. The bear turns as he makes his way back towards the tall pine trees, Charles spurring Taima into a trot as she quietly snorts. He steers her off the path, nodding ahead.

“Let’s cut up here. Off the path,” he urges Arthur, not wanting to risk crossing paths with the mighty beast.

Arthur guides his horse along the incline after Charles, (Y/N) keeping her attention to the left for any sign of their furry friend. Satisfied and relieved once they put some distance between where they had seen the bear and them, she sighs, facing forward once more as Charles leads them back towards the main path.

“We ain’t ever talked much, the three of us,” Arthur comments in a conversational manner after a few moments. “How long have you been with us now? Five— six months?”

Charles nods his head. “Something like that.” 

A bitter chuckle leaves Arthur. “Bet you didn’t expect this.”

“What?” Charles questions. 

Arthur shrugs his shoulder lightly, motioning around with a nod of his head. “ Any of this. The Blackwater mess, bein’ up here…”

(Y/N) nods in agreement with this as she sighs, having not anticipated any of this herself. She couldn’t imagine being thrown into this mess after only running with the gang for 6 months.

Charles laughs faintly, shrugging. “Sooner or later a job’s going to go wrong. Nature of life,” he says with surprising optimism and understanding.

(Y/N) hums at this in acknowledgment, tilting her head as she observes the land around them. “I’m impressed you stuck around, Mr. Smith. I don’t know— if I had been you, I might’ve moved on.”

Charles side-eyes the woman, his brow lifting lightly. “You want me to move on?” he asks, his tone curious.

“Huh?” (Y/N) blinked owlishly, her eyes widening as she looks to Charles. “Oh— no, that’s not what I was implying at all. Just— all this mess… and you hardly know us. I don’t know— I’d have… saved myself the trouble of havin’ to deal with it all. You could handle things alone, I’m sure.”

Charles deeply sighs at this, his gaze shifting ahead as they guide their horses along the snowy path. “I did that for a long time,” he replies wearily, seeming to be lost in a memory for a moment as he shakes his head. “I’m done with it. Always wondering if someone’s going to kill you in your sleep…”

Arthur lets out a wheeze of ironic laughter. “I still wonder that most nights,” he jests, his features softening to a more earnest one. “But knowin’ (Y/N) has my back… it helps.”

(Y/N) feels warmth blooming along her cheeks at his words, a pleased smile tugging at her lips as her gaze averts down to the horn of the saddle. 

“Hey, I might be the one to kill ya in your sleep with all your damn snorin’,” she teases lightheartedly, Arthur’s snoring actually having been noticeably better last night. “It’s like sleeping with one of them grizzlies.” 

Arthur lets out a deep, raspy chuckle at this as he shakes his head with amusement, a faint laugh heard from Charles as his dark eyes observe the two for a moment. He exhales through his nose, his features visibly seeming to relax from the usual scowl he wore as he looks ahead once again.

 “But… the feelin’s mutual,” (Y/N) adds in a softer, genuine tone, her hand pulling back to rest on Arthur’s arm, giving it a light, affectionate squeeze. 

Her attention shifts to Charles, the woman missing the tender manner Arthur was currently gazing down at her with from behind, the corner of his lip pulled up in a soft, half-grin.

 “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, Mr. Smith,” she belatedly says with assurance, nodding her head. 

Charles allows himself to smile at her words. “I reckon you two are okay,” he quietly replies, letting out a relaxed breath. “This suits me. Sure, I could fall in with another gang, but Dutch… you know…” He pauses, seeming to lack the right words. “Dutch is different.” 

Arthur chuckles faintly at this, smiling at the mention of the man as he nods his head.

“That’s putting it mildly,” (Y/N) replies with amusement, nodding as well in agreement. “But yes… he is.” 

“He treats me fair,” Charles points out with a pleased voice, clearly not accustomed to such treatment. “Most of you do,” he adds, glancing to the two meaningfully with what seemed to be gratitude. “And for a feller with a black father and an Indian mother…” He sighs. “That ain’t normally the case.”

Arthur’s features soften with understanding, (Y/N) frowning sympathetically at this as she nods her head.

“Well…” Arthur sighs as his jaw clenches slightly, the man adjusting his grip on the horse’s reins. “We need you now. More than ever.”

“Good,” Charles simply replies, hesitating for a moment as he looks ahead. “So how long you two been with this group?” he questions, his voice holding genuine interest and curiosity. “Why ain’t you two run off and get m—” 

He cuts himself off, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “Run off and get out of this?” he questions, though it sounded awkward and hesitant, like that wasn’t truly what he was going to originally ask.

“Oh…” (Y/N) exhales a soft snort, shaking her head. “Arthur was with Dutch and Hosea for a while before me. But this was… maybe…” She blinks slowly, grimacing. “Has it really been twenty years?” 

Arthur looks down in thought at this, his brow furrowing before his expression becomes one of wistful surprise. “Yeah. Just about. Somethin’ like that.” He shakes his head, unbelieving of the number himself. “I was with them for a little more than two years before we picked her up. I was… sixteen, and she was fifteen when we found her.”

“Twenty years ?” Charles breathes out with surprise.

Arthur nods with a snort at his reaction. “Yeah. He taught us how to read.” He smiles faintly, which falls a bit as he sighs, begrudgingly adding, “John, too.” He huffs. “Taught us a few other things, him and Hosea.”

“I’m sure,” Charles agrees knowingly, having seen himself how resourceful both men are.

(Y/N) looks down, lost in thought as she thinks back to that fateful day she had met Dutch, Hosea and Arthur. She could still remember it vividly, from the smallest detail to the burning sensation in her bicep from being grazed by a bullet, the scar only faintly visible now after all these years. She shakes her head to clear her mind, smiling gently to herself.

“Dutch… he saved me. Well… I suppose Hosea did first, in a way, but…” (Y/N) lets out a breathless chuckle, glancing to Charles. “Without Dutch and Hosea, I’d be dead. He saved so many of us. Arthur included.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches at her words, his chest leaning forward against her back in a protective gesture. He nods his head in agreement, his eyes hardened with determination and strength.

“Ain’t that the truth,” he agrees gruffly. “That’s why we need to stick by him through this,” he adds, ‘we’ meaning the whole gang itself. “He always sees us right.”

(Y/N) hears the unwavering loyalty and trust in Arthur’s words, the confidence and assurance that Dutch pulls them through any and all helping to ease some of her earlier worries. While she trusted Dutch, she had to admit she had been feeling uncertain and apprehensive of everything. But she knew her fears would be unfounded, and they’d all be laughing about this someday, safe. 

She nods wordlessly in agreement as she smiles to herself, Charles nodding silently as well at this. A silence settles over the three as their horses continue down the path, the surroundings quickly becoming familiar once again the closer they get to their camp. The silence was surprisingly comfortable compared to earlier— though it hadn’t been a bad one, it had felt a little awkward in a way. But this time, it felt calming. 

(Y/N) observes Charles as she notices the gentle way he pets Taima, her head tilting slightly as she smiles. It was obvious he loved the horse, same as everyone else did with their own. Her own horse had been shot down alongside Arthur’s while escaping Blackwater, the memory still painfully fresh in her mind as she thinks over her beloved companion. She had had the horse for years, the mighty beast loyal to the very end. 

She knew Arthur was also no doubt still mourning his Boadicea, the man gentle and kind to this current horse, but she could tell there wasn’t a true bond there— not like he had with Boadicea. Sighing softly as her hand idly strokes the horse’s neck, she lifts her eyes to the forest, taking time to admire it with the pleasant silence. 

-

The snowfall is worse than before, though much better than any storm, the cold biting at the three as the buildings of camp come into view. The two men steer their horses into the camp as the horses move at a trot, (Y/N) dusting some snow off her sleeves as they near the hitching posts outside of Simon’s setup. 

“Brought some food back!” Arthur calls boastfully to no one in particular, his voice husky and proud.

(Y/N) softly chortles with amusement at this, the woman rolling her eyes fondly as Arthur dismounts the horse. He grabs the reins and guides the horse closer to the hitching post, skillfully tying the reins off as (Y/N) herself climbs down from the horse in a quick, smooth motion. She stretches with a soft, relieved breath, her eyes flicking to Charles as he ties Taima’s reins as well to the hitching post. 

“Come on,” Arthur sighs out to Charles, his hands working on the straps keeping the buck secured to his horse. “Let’s get these over to Pearson.” He hesitates, clearing his throat. “And, uh… thank you for showin’ us how to use the bow properly.” 

“Yeah— thank you, Mr. Smith,” (Y/N) chimes in agreement, nodding as she watches Arthur lift the buck onto his shoulder.

Charles grabs the doe from Taima, slinging it over his shoulder as he quietly chuckles.

“I only showed you a little,” he murmurs in response. “Takes a lifetime of practice to master.” 

(Y/N) hums at this, following alongside Arthur as he and Charles make their way over to Simon.

“Well, thank you anyway,” she replies lightly. 

Simon glances up from where he sat as he notices movement, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the two men carrying deer on their shoulders. Uncle stood leaning against the wall, his eyes shifting over to the three as well as he held a bottle of liquor in his hand.

“Well, well, well!” Simon cheerfully greets, chuckling breathlessly as he rises and walks over. 

Charles grunts as he dumps the doe onto Simon’s workbench, Arthur stepping closer as he drops the buck down onto the dirt with a heavy thud. (Y/N) shifts to the side as she glances over the doe and the buck, a feeling of pride swelling in her chest that they could provide the camp with food.

“What a surprise to find the camp rat loitering in the kitchen,” Arthur drawls with sarcasm as he approaches the fire pit, noticing Uncle. 

Uncle huffs at his words, his white, messy bearded jaw clenching indignantly as he lowers to sit on the bunch.

“That any way to treat an old friend?” the older man questions with another huff, glancing to (Y/N) as she approaches as well. “I feel like we three ain’t spoken in days!”

(Y/N)’s brow raises as she looks at Uncle, Charles remaining silent as he approaches the fire pit as well for warmth as he rubs his injured hand delicately.

“We do our utmost to avoid you,” Arthur bluntly replies to Uncle, causing (Y/N) to snicker under her breath.

Uncle clicks his tongue, waving his free hand. “Aw, you love me, really! You just have a sad way of showing affection,” he directs at Arthur.

“Hmm, is that true?” (Y/N) asks Arthur playfully with an amused smirk, raising her brow. 

Arthur’s brow twitches, the man scowling lightly with mild irritation as he glares at Uncle. “No, it isn’t,” he answers firmly, waving a hand at Uncle as though he were swatting away a fly. “Now shoot, get lost.”

Uncle grumbles with a pout as he rises, hobbling lightly as he makes his way out of the kitchen. 

“Well, see you gents and Lady later,” he mumbles, disappearing out of the area as he makes his way over to the Church no doubt. 

Simon looks over the doe and the buck with approval, smiling widely as he nods his head. “I see you three got on just fine.”

“All thanks to Mr. Smith,” (Y/N) credits with a nod.

Simon’s eyes flick to Charles with gratitude, the man only silently shrugging a shoulder as his gaze averts down to the fire pit. (Y/N) smiles faintly as she watches Charles, realizing his silent nature was no doubt a defense against others around him. She felt glad that he seemed to open up more to herself and Arthur. 

“Have a drink,” Simon urges, gaining her attention as he tosses a bottle her way. “You’ve earned it.” 

(Y/N) tilts her head curiously as she looks over the unlabeled bottle, shrugging and lifting it to her lips. The liquor barely touches her tongue before she jerks the bottle away with a wheezing cough, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushing with warmth as she swallows the small sip she had taken. Her throat and chest burn— the sensation uncomfortable for a moment before slowly settling as she coughs lightly into her fist, the woman having not expected such a strong drink.

Arthur observes her reaction with a raised brow and mild concern, the man reaching out and taking the bottle. He brings it to his lips and takes a slow drink, his eyes widening as he also lowers the bottle with a cough.

“Jesus, what is that?!” he raspily demands, recovering from the shock of the strong drink as he passes the bottle over to Charles.

Simon cackles at their reactions, shaking his head. “Navy rum, sir! It’s the only thing. The only thing!” he declares.

Charles takes a slow sip of the alcohol, his brow furrowing lightly as his eyes squint. He lowers the bottle calmly as he nods slightly in thanks, passing it back over to Simon as the man eagerly takes it with a laugh.

“Keeps you sane, it does!” Simon says with amusement, grunting as he lowers to sit down in his chair.

Arthur stares at the man, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah, seems to have done a treat on you…” he murmurs under his breath sarcastically. 

(Y/N) faintly smirks with amusement at this, lightly and playfully bumping her elbow against Arthur’s arm as the man snickers. Her eyes flick to Charles as she watches him tentatively rub his bandaged palm, the strain of the ride and the cold no doubt having caused discomfort.

“You should take it easy,” she urges with a hint of worry. “Head inside for a bit and rest your hand.”

Charles glances to her. “I’ll be fine in a few days,” he assures.

Simon sighs deeply as he observes the two animal carcasses, lowering his bottle onto the stone of the fire pit. “Mind helpin’ me with the skinning, Mr. Morgan? It’s easier if we do it together.”

“Do I get to skin you?” Arthur hopefully questions. 

(Y/N) shakes her head to herself fondly, Simon coughing into his fist after taking another swig of Navy rum.

“You’re always one with the jokes, aren’t you?” he questions rhetorically after recovering, rising with another cough. “Come on.”

Charles steps back, shifting his weight on his feet as he frowns lightly. “This isn’t really a job for a man with a burnt hand. I’ll see you all later.” 

(Y/N) nods as she watches the man head out, calling, “Take it easy, Mr. Smith!”

She sighs deeply and wearily, clasping her gloved hands together and rubbing them lightly to generate warmth as she glances from the two deer to Simon and Arthur.

“I’m gonna go over and tell the others we got food,” (Y/N) speaks softly with eager happiness, knowing the others will no doubt feel much better with actual full bellies of warm food. “Unless you need me?”

Arthur approaches the buck and lowers down, grunting lightly as he turns it over onto its side for a better angle. He rises while gazing at her, the man shaking his head slightly.

“Naw, that’s alright, darlin’. Go on inside with the others and get warm,” he mumbles tenderly, feeling himself smile at her noticeable, uplifted attitude.

(Y/N) grins at this as she turns, turning heading out of the small area as she tries to ignore the way her heart constantly flutters at the familiar term of endearment. It was something Arthur has always called her, but for some reason, it’s been leaving her feeling giddy in a sense, as well as oddly happy. Shaking her head to herself, she makes her way through the small path in the snow, sighing softly as she gazes up at the Church.

Arthur’s eyes follow (Y/N) as he watches her leave, his facial features noticeably softer with a look akin to affection. His head leans out slightly as he keeps his eyes on her, his smile lingering as she disappears inside of the church with a spring to her step. He was glad she seemed to be more like herself, the man knowing the last few days had drained her of her normally infectious energy and positivity. Once they were off this mountain, he thought to himself, things would all return to normal and be okay. 

Sighing deeply, he unsheathes his hunting knife, turning and approaching the buck on the ground. Lowering down, he readies his knife, and skillfully skins away at it, Simon working on the doe. The group would eat well tonight and for a few days to come, and things were finally starting to look up for them.

Chapter Text

A few days later…

...

It’s been a bad few weeks, but… I’ve mentioned this before, and I’ll say it again. Everything seems more bearable and warm whenever (Y/N) is near. 

Golden sunlight shines down onto the snowy land, the blue sky above finally greeting the world once again. The clouds that had loomed overhead were no more, and it was almost as if the harsh wind and damning storm had never been. 

She just has a way of making everything seem normal and strangely peaceful. Always has, even in the most dire situations we find ourselves mixed up in. 

Arthur sighs deeply as he pushes the door to the cabin open, and he is pleasantly surprised by the sunlight that greets him. A soft thump on the brim of his hat causes him to tilt his head back, a drop of cold water falling onto his cheek from the melting icicles that hang above where he stood. He lowers his head back down and steps forward to avoid more droplets as his gloved fingers wipe away the moisture on his cheek, his eyes scanning along the snowy terrain. The snow sparkled and was almost blinding with the light of the rising sun, and the sky was mostly clear of clouds, the blue coloring almost unfamiliar after so long. 

Dutch being Dutch, he is busy making plans… and Dutch being Dutch, those plans involve robbery and dreams.

The man makes his way along the path, noting that it was much more walkable as the snow slowly began to thaw with the warmth of the sun. He visibly perks up as he spots (Y/N), the woman’s back to him as she runs a brush along the neck of his horse hitched at the post, The Count alongside them. The sunlight caught her hair in a way that had Arthur’s drawing hand twitching, the man pausing for a moment as he took in the beautiful sight, wanting to commit it to memory for him to sketch out in his journal when he had free time later. 

Arthur clears his throat lightly as he approaches to gain her attention, (Y/N) looking back over her shoulder and smiling at the sight of him.

“Hey,” she greets in a light, upbeat tone, her attitude having been in much higher spirits lately.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Arthur greets in return with a slight tilt of his hat, the man shifting closer to his horse as he reaches out to pat the animal’s neck. “Appreciate you doin’ this. He’s looking mighty fine.” 

(Y/N)’s smile grows into a bashful and pleased one, her hand running the brush along the horse’s mane one final time. “Hmm,” she hums, trying to act casual and nonchalant. “Nothing to it.”

Arthur watches as she sets the horse brush onto the hitching post in a way that it wouldn’t fall, the woman running a hand through her hair and sighing with contentment as she glances up at the sky. 

“I was actually about to go on in and check on the others,” she comments in a light, hinting tone, her eyes flicking to Arthur as she tilts her head towards the Church. “You should see how John’s doing…”

Arthur’s eyes narrow at the suggestion as he turns his head to her, opening his mouth.

“You ain’t checked on him since we brought him back nearly a week ago, Arthur,” (Y/N) cuts him off before he could protest, her tone firm but not unkind. She sighs softly, her voice becoming softer as she shakes her head, “You don’t have to if you really don’t want to, but… I think it’d be good if you did. Please?”

(Y/N) gives Arthur a small, encouraging smile, watching as his jaw clenches for a moment as he stares down at her. He takes a slow, deep breath and sighs with a hint of exasperated defeat, his eyes averting to the side as he shifts his weight on his boots in the snow with a quiet grumble under his breath.

“ Fine ,” Arthur grits out reluctantly, his hands resting on his gun belt around his waist. “Only ‘cause you asked.”

(Y/N) feels her heart skip an odd beat, but she ignores it, a delighted smile gracing her features as she nods with approval. “Good. C’mon, now.” 

With that, she turns on her heel as she makes her way towards the Church, Arthur grumbling under his breath to himself something or other about being ‘too damn soft’, his expression grumpy and soured. Though, there was a distinct look akin to affection and warmth in his eyes as he watched (Y/N), the man straightening up and pushing ahead as they neared the door. He reaches out and grabs hold of it before she could, causing her to look up with a hint of surprise. A quiet, fond snicker leaves her as Arthur pulls the door open for her, his tall frame standing aside and his ears feeling warm as she enters first, Arthur following and closing the door behind them. 

Orville sat beside where John laid, the sleeve of John’s shirt bundled at his bicep and a Bible on Orville’s lap, opened to a hollowed-out chunk of pages. Orville holds a needle to John’s arm, carefully and slowly injecting the morphine into his system to ease the pain. Emptying the needle, he withdraws it from John’s skin, lowering his sleeve and patting his arm gently with an encouraging nod. Arthur approaches alongside (Y/N), the man’s expression showing disapproval and distaste. 

“I thought you was reading him his last rights…” Arthur drawls mockingly, scoffing quietly through his teeth. “Now I see you’re introducing him to your other passion.”

Orville snaps his Bible shut at the sound of Arthur’s voice, rising swiftly as he tucks it away into his coat. (Y/N) watches with worry as John grimaces slightly while settling, but his expression begins to soften ever so softly as he lets out a deep breath, seeming to already be feeling some sort of relief. While she didn’t approve of Orville’s usage of the substance for his own pleasure and self-destruction, she knew that the medicine would help John to relax and get some rest, if only for a little while. 

“I’ll mind you to show me some respect, Mr. Morgan,” Orville responds in warning. 

Arthur isn’t phased by this. “Mind away, Reverend.”

(Y/N) sighs slowly under her breath as Orville brushes past the two, Arthur shaking his head as his eyes linger on the man. He turns his head back to John, feeling reluctance and annoyance, but reminding himself (Y/N) had wanted to check on the man. And, if he was being honest, a small part of him had been concerned for John. Only for a moment, he told himself.

“You still here, then?” Arthur bluntly and rhetorically questions, lifting his hand towards John as he casually steps closer.

This earns a half-hearted eye roll from John, the man grunting softly under his breath and his expression twinging with pain momentarily as he shifts too much for his body’s liking. He exhales slowly, his head leaning back on his pillow.

“That… stuff working?” (Y/N) questions worriedly as she looks over John, frowning as she reaches out to adjust the blanket over the younger man. 

John huffs at this, his nose scrunching. “Don’t you start that shit now. You and Abigail, fussin’ over me,” he rasps out with mock annoyance, though he doesn’t do anything to stop her as she fixes the blanket. “I’m fine. Morphine’s helping me actually sleep,” he belatedly mumbles, nodding. 

Arthur watches the two interact, and he’s reminded of the days of their youth for a brief moment, ones that bring a warm look to his eyes as he regards John. He lowers to sit down in the chair Orville had been in, (Y/N) smiling with faint amusement at John’s weak protest to her ‘fussing’ over him. She shifts back a step to give John breathing room, her arms folding over her chest as she looks over his features, the wounds slowly but surely healing.

“I owe you both,” John says after a moment, sniffing softly. 

Arthur dismissively hums at this. “And you’ll pay us,” he mumbles with a hint of familiar sarcasm. “But for the moment, just rest.”

(Y/N)’s eyes flick to Arthur, and she can’t fight off the small, proud smile that tugs at the corner of her lips. The interaction between them was almost friendly, something it hadn’t been in a long time, and she appreciated Arthur seemed to be trying, despite knowing full well how the man could hold a grudge. 

The door to the Church was suddenly pushed open, causing (Y/N) to look back, Arthur doing the same with narrowed eyes before relaxing at the sight of Dutch.

“Arthur, (Y/N),” Dutch greets a bit breathlessly, his eyes holding a familiar, excited spark to them as he approaches where they were, the plans from the O’Driscoll camp in his gloved hands. “I think it’s time for the train.”

(Y/N) was caught off guard by this, an odd, sinking feeling occurring in her stomach as she recalls Hosea’s warning. However, she quickly puts on a faint smile as she nods, Arthur side-eyeing the woman closely, never one to not notice when she was uneasy about something. 

“Want me to come?” John asks, his words a bit slurred as his head tilts to the side against the pillow. 

Dutch’s eyes soften as he looks down at the injured man. “Of course I do, but…” He lifts a hand towards him, exhaling. “Look at ya.” 

John snorts, lifting a hand to tentatively touch his bandaging. “I was always ugly, Dutch. It’s just a scratch,” he dismisses, wincing as he tries to rise. 

Dutch’s expression becomes firm with worry. “Lie still, son,” he urges sternly.

(Y/N) steps forward with a shake of her head, her brow furrowed and her hands lifted, ready to guide the man back down. Arthur pushes John back down unapologetically with his hand, John grunting lightly.

“Don’t you make me get Abigail,” (Y/N) warns threateningly, her tone holding no room for argument. 

“Get me for what?”

John’s form tenses and he cringes in pain from the tightening of his muscles, (Y/N) looking back hastily and straightening up with a small, nervous smile as she awkwardly rubs the back of her neck. Arthur’s brow raises as he watches the two, shaking his head with a soft snort under his breath.

“Hello, Abigail,” Dutch greets with a nod. “Jackie,” he adds fondly, noticing the small boy trailing behind Abigail’s skirt.

Abigail’s sapphire eyes shift to the man, and she nods in return. “Dutch.” She looks to John, her expression hardened as she clears her throat. “The boy wanted to see you, John.”

Arthur rises from the chair and steps aside out of the way, (Y/N) following along to give the trio a moment. Dutch shifts to the side as well as he views the plans in his hands, Abigail standing tall before John as she looks back to Jack with an encouraging nod.

Jack tentatively moves from around his mother’s skirt, his big brown eyes tentative and his features soft with worry and uncertainty as he looks down at John. 

“He’s seen me now… or what’s left of me,” John bitterly says, shaking his head. His eye flicks to Abigail. “What about you?” 

Abigail seems momentarily caught off guard by the question, her hardened expression faltering briefly as her eyes flutter. She takes a quick, sharp breath, her jaw tightening as she straightens up once more.

“Guess I was hopin’ to see a corpse,” she icily answers. 

(Y/N) winces at this, Arthur glancing to her from the corner of his eye with a quiet huff of faint amusement. John lets out a raspy laugh at Abigail’s answer, his eye averting away.

“Bide your time. You’ll see plenty of them,” he lowly and coldly replies.

Abigail scoffs at this, her nose scrunching up. “You’re a rotten man, John Marston!”

She reaches out and gently grabs hold of Jack, turning on her heel and guiding him out in a huff.

“He is an idiot, Abigail,” Dutch calls after her, gesturing to John with the rolled up plans. “We all know it!” 

The door shuts behind Abigail, Dutch turning to the two. “Now, my railway men and woman…” 

(Y/N) and Arthur begin to instinctively follow after Dutch as he leads them out of the Church, the horses of the other men saddled up and ready to go as the mighty animals shift restlessly, some pawing at the melting snow beneath them.

“Bill, now you ride ahead and set the charge,” Dutch calls to the large man, making him look up from where he stood by Brown Jack, the horse an Ardennes breed with a dark brown coat and a long mane. “At the water tower, just before the tunnel.” 

Bill nods at this, already mounting up before Dutch had finished. “Ain’t a problem.”

(Y/N) looks to the left when she spots movement, Hosea storming over with a frustrated, exasperated scowl as he lifts his arms at his sides. 

“Why are we doing this?” he demands firmly at Dutch. 

(Y/N) hesitates as she slowly makes her way towards the hitching posts, the woman approaching Arthur’s horse, as she noticed that Charles was well enough to ride with them. 

“Weather’s breaking— we could leave!” Hosea points out with a hint of desperation, watching as Dutch approach The Count. “I— I thought we was lying low!”

Hosea watches with distraught as Bill takes off on Brown Jack, his form moving out of the way of the horse before steadying out as he looks to Dutch once more.

Dutch sighs sharply, tucking the plans into the saddlebag of The Count before turning to Hosea. “What do you want from me, Hosea?”

Arthur’s back was to them as he went over the straps and buckles of the saddle on his horse, wanting to ensure it was secured properly before they head out. His jaw was clenched ever so slightly, the only indication that part of him seemed bothered by the current situation. (Y/N) stands beside him with her eyes on the two older men, her brow furrowed deeply and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“I just don’t want anymore folks to die, Dutch!” Hosea exclaims with exasperation and grief, shaking his head.

“We’re living, Hosea. We’re living,” Dutch calmly and reassuringly replies, gesturing to himself. “Look at me. We’re living.” He motions to Hosea, who had his back to him. “Even you!”

Hosea shakes his head at this with a scoff through his clenched teeth, the man slowly pacing through the snow with clear agitation.

(Y/N) feels her heart clench at Hosea and his adamant protesting, knowing they would no doubt fall on deaf ears. The argument she’d heard between Dutch and Hosea flickered through her mind, but she was distracted by the distinct pressure of large, familiar hands grabbing her waist. She sharply inhales with surprise as she is lifted upward, her foot instinctively finding the stirrup of the saddle for support as she swings her leg over the horse, settling into the saddle.

She turns her head and glares down at Arthur in silent protest, the man only smirking up at her fondly in response. His smirk softens to a more genuine and reassuring smile as he reaches out, his hand resting on her thigh as he gives it a gentle squeeze. She realizes he was comforting and assuring her, her eyes widening before she allows herself to faintly smile in thanks, Arthur’s hand slowly lifting off her leg as he glances back to the men.

“But we need money,” Dutch continues, Hosea sighing at this as he slowly turns to face the man. “Everything we have’s in Blackwater.” He tilts his head, squinting with a scoff. “You fancy heading back there?” he demands rhetorically.

Hosea’s eyes narrow at this, the man hesitating before his gaze falls to the ground with what seems to be defeat. “No,” he responds wearily, sighing softly as he lifts his eyes to meet Dutch’s. “Listen, Dutch, I ain’t trying to undermine you, I just…”

Hosea looks over to where Arthur and (Y/N) were, his gaze flitting between the two for a moment before returning to Dutch, his brow furrowed deeply with worry and visible creases along the corners of his eyes from stress.

“I just want to stick to the plan. Which was to lie low, then head back out west,” Hosea reminds imploringly, shifting his weight on his feet. “Now suddenly, we’re about to rob a train.”

Dutch regards Hosea with a steady gaze, the man’s determined expression never faltering as he listens to his worries. “What choice have we got?” he slowly questions. 

Hosea’s hand lifts, the older man rubbing his face tiredly as he shakes his head with disapproval, staring downward. “Leviticus Cornwall’s no joke, Dutch. He’s—”

“Who is Leviticus Cornwall?” Arthur’s voice cuts in, gaining their attention.  

(Y/N)’s eyes flick from Dutch and Hosea to Arthur as she remains perched on top of his horse, the man standing beside her as his hand absentmindedly rests on the horse’s neck to keep it calm and soothed.

“He’s a big railway magnate. Sugar dealer, oil man,” Hosea answers as his jaw tightens.

Dutch scoffs dismissively without worry. “Well, how good for him. Sounds like he has more than enough to share.”

Hosea’s eyes sharpen and snap to the man, his expression tightening. “Dutch!” he barks.

“Gentlemen!” Dutch’s voice bellows confidently as he shoulders past Hosea, disregarding his protests as he addresses the men standing by. “It is time to make something of ourselves!”

Hosea’s shoulders sag with defeat as he shakes his head, his eyes shifting over to (Y/N) for a moment. (Y/N) frowns with obvious concern as she mouths an apology, Arthur reaching over and patting Hosea’s arm in a reassuring manner as he turns and approaches his horse to mount up. Hosea exhales deeply as he watches the two with a fatherly worry, but he knows he can do nothing to stop what was going to be done, and forces himself to step back as he turns his head away with gritted teeth.

“Get your horses ready!” Dutch orders sternly, watching as the men rush to mount their horses, his frame turning as he smoothly and confidently approaches The Count. “We have a train to rob!”

Arthur unties the horse’s reins and smoothly mounts up behind (Y/N), his arms encircling her gently as he guides the horse to turn alongside Dutch on The Count. One of (Y/N)’s hands rests on the horn of the saddle, the other resting comfortably on her knee as she allows her frame to lean back into Arthur with familiarity. 

“Everyone ready?” Dutch calls as he guides The Count onto the path, the trail much more visible now with the thawing of the snow. “Alright—we’re moving out! Follow me!” 

With that, Dutch kicks his heels lightly into his horse’s sides to urge him into a trot, the others following doing the same to their own steeds. Arthur rides with (Y/N) right alongside Dutch, Micah riding behind the man. Micah was followed by Javier, Charles behind Arthur and (Y/N) and Lenny behind him, Bill having road ahead as per Dutch’s instructions. 

“Okay, gentlemen,” Dutch starts, (Y/N) knowing full-well she was included despite him not having pointed her out specifically. “Listen up, all of you. According to the information so kindly provided to us by the O’Driscolls, the train will be coming north, from Big Valley.”

Dutch grunts softly as he spurs The Count into a canter, the others following suit as they cross the river, continuing to follow the path. The pine trees stood tall on either side of them as their horses canter through the soft snow, the wind calm and not a single snowflake raining down from the beautiful sky above. 

“We’re going to pick it off after it crosses the border into the Grizzlies,” Dutch continues, keeping his voice steady and clear to ensure his plan was heard by the group. “There’s a raised spot there that should give us good vantage. Charles, you’ll keep a lookout for any outriders. How’s that hand, by the way?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Charles reassures confidently. 

Dutch nods at this with approval. “Good. I’ll take the driver and engineer, then run point.” He continues to guide The Count along the path as he speaks. “Lenny and Javier, you two take the front cars— deal with any guards. Arthur, (Y/N) and Micah, you three head straight for the back. That’s what we’re after. Mr. Cornwall’s private car.” 

(Y/N) stifles back a sound of protest at this as her nose scrunches up, and by the way Arthur had tensed up, she got the sense he also wasn’t too keen on working with Micah on this heist. 

“You and me, Morgan and (L/N)!” Micah calls in a jolly tone. 

“Great,” Arthur sarcastically drawls in return.

(Y/N) shakes her head to herself with a grumble under her breath, a long, sharp and annoyed breath leaving her.

“What, have you got a problem with that?” Micah questions the two, having noticed their apprehension. 

This earns a light eye roll from (Y/N), the woman shrugging a shoulder lazily. “Depends.”

Micah’s eyes narrow, the man scoffing softly. “ On ?” he impatiently demands.

“On if you can keep your head for once,” Arthur answers sharply for her, turning his head to glare at the man with obvious disdain. 

Micah bristles at his words, his jaw clenching as his lip curls. “You worry about yourselves!” he defensively snaps.

“Already losing your temper there, Bell,” (Y/N) comments pointedly and dryly. “All you’re doin’ is confirming our worries of workin’ with you.”

“Enough!” Dutch’s voice cuts through them like thunder, Micah snapping his mouth shut instantly and wisely for once. 

(Y/N) huffs softly as she frowns much like a child that had been scolded, Arthur exhaling a scoff of both annoyance and amusement. Micah scowls and glares ahead, Lenny sighing softly and shaking his head to himself with a small, worried frown. Charles’ dark eyes linger on Micah and narrow slightly before shifting to (Y/N) and Arthur ahead of him, his expression unreadable and his brow twitching ever so slightly. 

Dutch sighs deeply and wearily, shaking his head as he resumes speaking of the plan, “After Bill blows the tracks, we’re gonna need to move fast.” He pauses, briefly glancing back. “Is everyone clear on what they’re doing?” 

In response, he receives a chorus of different confirmations from the small group, his expression softening to one of pride and relief as he nods, facing ahead once more as he guides The Count.

“Good. Now, come on! Let’s ride!” he encourages heartily, spurring The Count into a gallop, prompting the others to do the very same.

The ride is uneventful as Dutch leads them along the winding paths of the mountain, an air of tranquility and peace surrounding the group. The thundering sound of their horse’s running rings out in the area, the wind occasionally pierced by an occasional shriek of an elk. The sun continues to rise in the distance as they make their way to the destined location, the lack of wind and snowfall aiding in their horses maintaining a decent speed.

As they made their way down the mountain, the sky had slowly become covered by a few clouds above, which occasionally blocked out the sunlight as they moved at a snail’s pace with the slight breeze. The pine trees begin to thin out the lower they descend, and the path slowly but surely becomes more and more visible as the snow around them decreases. 

“Out of the snow, finally,” Arthur states with a hint of relief, his eyes scanning along the ground. 

There was noticeably more grass peeking out of the thin layering of snow around them, the path more mud than snow and more greenery decorating the area. The pine trees were thin and scrawny around them, snow only dusted on the branches and bristles rather than caked on. 

“The air is more breathable… and it’s definitely so much warmer already,” (Y/N) breathed out, finding it almost shocking how much the temperature had shifted when they were still in the snow.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dutch questions with a chuckle. “But we need to get this done fast now it’s thawing… before anyone gets up here after us,” he continues in a more serious voice, his eyes scanning around the area warily. 

Dutch sighs deeply as he steers The Count down the path, the man sparing a glance over his shoulder at the group following loyally after him.

“Oh, look at you boys and my tough girl!” Dutch fondly declares with pride, sunlight peeking through the clouds and shining down onto them. “See? This is what I call a crew!” He faces forward once more. “Micah Bell, Charles Smith, (Y/N) (L/N), Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella—” He pauses, letting out a gentle laugh, “— and what about young Lenny here? Always the first man on his horse!” 

Lenny beams a tad shyly at the praise, the boy clearing his throat. “Just happy we’re back at ‘em, Dutch.”

Javier glances over to the young boy, frowning as his brow creases with worry. “You sure you’re ready for this, kid?”

Lenny straightens up, nodding confidently. “‘Course I’m ready!” 

Dutch smiles proudly to himself, his eyes focused ahead. “Just stay calm, keep your eyes sharp.” His expression hardens to a more serious, determined one. “That goes for all of you. No mistakes. Not again.”

(Y/N) feels her heart clench as her eyes cast downward, her brow furrowing slightly as she sighs through her nose. Every time she thought of Blackwater, all she could think of is everything— and everyone— they lost, all for that money. 

“So we do this, then we go back to Blackwater to collect?” the voice of Micah questions, causing her to look up. 

Her jaw clenches at the question, her heart rate beginning to spike with her growing anger at the sheer insensitivity and dim-witted thinking that was behind it. A hand on top of her own on the horn of the saddle causes her to look down, Arthur’s hand squeezing her own in a comforting manner, the man having noticed her state. She releases a slow, frustrated sigh to try to ease some of her tension, her shoulder loosening a fraction.

“How many times you gonna ask the same question, Micah?” Arthur demands, lifting his hand from (Y/N)’s in favor of grasping the reins once more as he steers his horse alongside Dutch. 

Micah seems taken aback for a moment, the man scowling and huffing with a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “That’s a lot of damn money to leave sitting for too long.” 

Charles lets out a derisive scoff. “It would be crazy to go back there now,” he snaps firmly with disapproval, catching the others off guard for a brief moment at his outburst. “The place will be swarming with Pinkertons. 

“Hell, you’re more than welcome to head back to get the money if you’re really itchin’ for it, Bell,” (Y/N) calls nonchalantly with encouragement, Arthur faintly smirking at this. “I won’t argue.”

“We go back when I say we go back,” Dutch sternly speaks up. “And that’s the end of it. The money’s safe. You’ll just have to trust me.”

Dutch guides The Count along the narrowing path, Arthur carefully manoeuvring his own horse alongside him as the others follow.

“And if the O’Driscolls are right,” Dutch continues, “There’ll be a stack of railroad bonds on this train.”

They emerge from the narrowed path as the landscape opens up beautifully, the ground below greener than they’d seen in days. A railroad track was to the right winding along the mountain’s face and curving around the bend, the tracks elevated by support beams over a gap between the flat surfaces of the ground. A tall water tower stood in the distance near the tracks, the faint outline of Bill near the tracks below visible.

“There’s the water tower,” Dutch calls, motioning ahead with his chin as he slows The Count. “Hold up here on the ridge.”

Arthur slows his horse alongside Dutch’s, (Y/N) shifting in the saddle a bit restlessly, the woman always having been more antsy and energetic right before a heist.

“Is Bill there?” Dutch questions, squinting against the sunlight as he lifts his head to peer below.

“Yeah,” Arthur confirms, nodding. 

“You wanna head down?” Dutch fetches binoculars from his saddle, peering through them down below as he watches Bill. “See how he’s getting on?”

Arthur sighs softly with reluctance, but he nods. “Okay.” 

(Y/N) smiles with sympathy as the man shifts, carefully dismounting off the horse and steadying himself on his feet. His eyes linger on her for a moment before he turns, making his way along the ledge of the ridge as the others park their horses alongside Dutch in a single row. (Y/N) shifts in the saddle as one of her hands gently holds the rein of the horse, her other lowering and stroking the animal’s neck. Her eyes follow Arthur as he makes his way down the ridge to help Bill, the woman shifting her focus up to the sky as she takes slow, steadying breaths to calm her jittery nerves and racing heart, mentally preparing for the heist to come.

-

Arthur stomps his way back up the hill, the man lifting his hat from his head and wiping some sweat that had gathered on his forehead. His thick, wool coat, while welcomed to fight off the cold, felt suffocating in the warm light of the sun after helping Bill, and, truth be told, he wasn’t even sure what he did. He just followed what Bill told him to do.

“Here comes Arthur.”

He could hear the others chattering on the ridge as he climbed higher along the slope, the man lowering his hat back onto his head as the ground began to even out. His eyes were instantly drawn to (Y/N) as he makes his way back over to his horse and her, (Y/N)’s head turning as she looks down at him.

“What’s going on?” Dutch questions the man, observing as Bill continues to work down below.

“He says all fine,” Arthur responds assuringly with a nod, sparing a glance back to Dutch before mounting up behind (Y/N) once more. 

Javier softly chortles under his breath, watching as Bill seems to trip over his own feet. “We’ll soon find out…” 

Time ticks by slowly as the crew waits, Dutch glancing up at the sun in the sky for a moment before checking his pocket watch. His brow furrows in contemplation before he nods, tucking it away.

“Cover your faces,” Dutch instructs, his hand lowering into his coat as he tugs his red and white plaid bandana over his face. “Train should be here any moment now.”

He lifts his binoculars up as he watches the tracks, the group following his order. Arthur tugs up a simple, black cotton mask over his nose, (Y/N) doing the same with her own (F/C) bandana. Dutch leans forward on his horse as he lowers the binoculars, squinting as he stares at the bend of the tracks. 

For a moment, it was silent, but then, the group could faintly hear the whirring of the train’s wheels, followed by the hissing of steam and a whistle. 

“Gentlemen and Lady, it’s time,” Dutch declares confidently. “Good luck… all of you,” he earnestly says, nodding his head as he looks between the group. “You all know what to do.” 

The train comes into view, black smoke pouring from the top and the wheels chugging along the tracks as it travels at a great speed. Down below, Bill rushes to the detonator, his own mask over his face and his hands grasping the handles of the detonator. He watches the train closely, his eyes flitting from the train to the detonator multiple times as he waits for the perfect moment.

“Here we go…” Bill mumbles to himself, watching the train.

The train chugs along the tracks and was over the dynamite, Bill lifting the handle and slamming it down. A click occurs, but nothing follows. Bill’s eyes widen at this, the man looking down with confusion as he begins to frantically slam the handle down multiple times.

“Shit, no!” he exclaims with alarm. “What?! God!” 

-

“Shoot the dynamite, Bill—!” (Y/N) shouts down below, her hand lifting and slapping to her forehead in a groan as she watches the train clear the dynamite covered tracks unscathed. 

“You have got to be kidding me!” Dutch exclaims with rising anger. 

“Where did you find that moron?” Arthur demands in a rough growl, yanking his mask down. 

Dutch glares at him slowly with clear aggravation. “You said it was fine !”

“Come on!” Javier barks, not wasting a moment as he leaps off of Boaz, Lenny following as he dismounts Maggie, his mustang. 

“So it’s my fault?!” Arthur demands at Dutch with irritation, glancing back with narrowed eyes as he spots the two men. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” he jabs at Dutch, earning a disgruntled groan of annoyance back from him.

He dismounts his horse smoothly and swiftly, darting after the two men as (Y/N) looks back with wide eyes filled with alarm. 

-

Arthur’s boots thunder beneath him as he dashes after Javier and Lenny, easily catching up with the two as they run along the rocky ledge. 

“Here we go!” Javier shouts with enthusiasm. 

They near the edge of the tunnel the train was emerging from, and without hesitation, they leap off, their limbs flailing a bit. Arthur lands roughly with a grunt on his shoulder, Javier exclaiming with alarm as he loses his balance, rolling too far to the edge of the train. Lenny screams out as he falls near the edge as well, but he manages to grab hold of the bars along the edge, keeping a firm grip.

Arthur’s jaw clenches as he begins to push himself up to help Lenny, the man looking back and spotting Javier— his pride no doubt bruised, but the man alive as he rises from the snow with a pained wince. 

A loud clang causes Arthur to nearly jump out of his skin, his eyes wide and his head snapping forward.

“The hell are you doin’ here, (Y/N)?!” 

His voice came out alarmed and shocked, but truthfully, the man wasn’t too surprised by her appearance. (Y/N) groans in pain as she pushes herself up, wincing as she rubs at her shoulder.

“Thought I’d catch the train for a nice, calming ride,” (Y/N) sarcastically replies to the man with a roll of her eyes, her expression hidden behind her mask, but Arthur knowing full well the look she had on. 

“Oh, shit!” Lenny exclaims with panic as he struggles, his legs kicking and flailing. “Pull me up!”

(Y/N)’s eyes snap to the side, her eyes widening. “Lenny!” 

Arthur wastes no time as he scrambles over, his hand shooting down and grabbing hold of Lenny’s wrist.

“I got you, now stop yellin’!” Arthur hisses in a scolding manner, not wanting to alert the guards of their presence. 

Arthur smoothly and easily pulls Lenny up onto the train’s roof just as they pass a nook meant for a worker to stand, which no doubt would’ve been his death, as the train was just passing over a bridge. (Y/N) rushes over as she offers her own hand, Lenny taking it with his free one as she helps guide him to safety.

“You’re okay,” Arthur reassures in a surprisingly soothing manner as he pulls Lenny further onto the roof with (Y/N). “Now, let’s go slow this thing down.”

(Y/N) nods at this as she slowly stands, the sensation odd and a little off-balancing as she looks ahead. 

“What happened to Javier?” she questions as they jog to the end of the cart they were on, lowering down to follow Lenny as he climbs down from the roof.

“He fell,” Arthur answers as he watches her closely and protectively, ready to aid her at any moment. Once she was on the floor of the train, he lowered himself as well. “The others’ll get him.”

“You and me!” Lenny declares confidently with a hint of excitement. “Three of us can do this, no problem!” 

(Y/N) can’t help but exhale with faint amusement, watching as Lenny rushes into the luxurious appearing train car. “Damn, I wish I had his energy,” she mumbles, rubbing at her sore arm from the fall as she sighs.

Arthur quietly chortles with agreement, his eyes sharp as he watches Lenny cleanly and silently take down a guard that had been in the car. (Y/N) jogs ahead and leans against the wall of the car as she carefully peers out, Lenny joining her on the other side as Arthur hangs back a little to avoid being seen.

“There’s a guard stationed ahead,” (Y/N) calls quietly, her eyes flicking to Lenny. “Think you can take him?” 

Lenny’s eyes light up at the offer as he nods, always ready and eager to prove himself it seemed. He rushes out from behind cover and darts along the platform, Arthur and (Y/N) watching as he shoves the guard off the train smoothly after sneaking up behind him. The two emerge from cover and make their way towards the boy, ensuring they keep low to avoid being seen, the sound of the train helping to disguise their movements. 

(Y/N) ducks behind a barrel and looks ahead to the next car, her eyes squinting as she makes out the figure of a guard in the open doorway. He held his gun readily, and she could tell there were more inside, a stifled breath leaving her.

“They know!” (Y/N) calls to the two, making Lenny tense with a nod as Arthur’s eyes narrow.

Arthur grunts as he shrugs off his rifle, taking careful aim as he spots the guard ducked behind the doorframe. (Y/N) draws her revolver, scolding herself for not having grabbed her own rifle before impulsively deciding to follow after Arthur. She lifts her gun and fires at the wall of the car, causing the guard to jump before she ducks down. Just as the guard leans out to take aim, he was shot between the eyes by Arthur, (Y/N) looks back at him with a grin beneath her mask and a nod.

Pushing forward, the three make quick, easy work of the guards that stood in their path, the guards standing no chance between the three and their quick thinking and communicating. It was an efficient tactic, (Y/N) would distract them by firing a few shots and feign being out, and Lenny or Arthur would shoot at them once they peeked their heads out from their cover.

“You okay?” Arthur asks Lenny, wanting to ensure the teenager wasn’t too shaken up as they push on. 

Lenny nods, panting softly as he wipes some sweat from his brow. “Yeah, I’m good.” He exhales deeply, scowling. “What the hell was Bill doing?” he questions with exasperation as he steps over a body, shaking his head as he follows after (Y/N). “He had long enough to set that charge!” 

Arthur clears his throat as he follows Lenny, his eyes shifting to the side.

“Well… I hooked up the wire,” Arthur admits, his tone completely unapologetic as he snorts. “But we won’t mention that.”

(Y/N) looks back and guffaws at this, her eyes wide and her brows lifted with amusement. “So this is your fault?”

 Arthur has the decency to at least appear a little sheepish.

“I ain’t sayin’ that exactly,” Arthur defends innocently, his hands lifted partially. “ Could’ve been Bill. Probably was Bill.”

(Y/N) snorts and rolls her eyes, Lenny’s gaze filled with amusement as he looks between the two. 

“Fool should’ve shot the damn dynamite,” (Y/N) states with annoyance as she shakes her head, emerging onto the small platform between the carts.

Arthur approaches her and lowers onto his knee before her, his hands clasping together with his fingers interlocked. (Y/N) looks down at him with a thankful nod, stepping onto his hands and reaching upward as he rises with a soft grunt of effort, efficiently pushing her up for her to grab the top of the car. 

She pulls herself up and rolls to get to a safer spot before she begins to rise, gasping softly as she spots a guard climbing up from the other side. She quick-draws her pistol, firing as her bullet pierces through his hand that had been holding his pistol. He screams out in pain, (Y/N) firing another shot, this one striking him in the shoulder and knocking him off-balance. He tumbles off the train, (Y/N) looking down as Lenny pulls himself onto the train car, Arthur following. 

“You alright?” Lenny questions worriedly.

“Fine, kid,” (Y/N) assures with a nod, feeling both amused and fondness for the simple, pure question. She looks ahead, her eyes narrowing. “More of ‘em down there!” 

Arthur aims his rifle with practiced precision, firing and taking down one of the guards ducking behind a large crate on the platform below. (Y/N) takes aim with her revolver and fires multiple shots at another behind a crate, striking his shoulder that had been peeking out just a fraction. He jerks out from his cover, allowing Lenny the chance to shoot him through the head. 

(Y/N) exhales deeply and reloads her revolver, approaching the ledge and lowering down. She grunts as she lands on her feet, her eyes scanning ahead sharply as Lenny and Arthur follow after her. The three briskly make their way to the front of the train, the sun slowly beginning to set in the distance. 

(Y/N) keeps ahead with her pistol drawn as she climbs onto the car just before the engine, a pile of stocked coal to her left behind an uplifted unit on the top of the car. She steps forward, a sharp, alarmed yelp leaving her when the Conductor suddenly lunges from the unheated coals. She fumbles and grapples with the man as she drops her revolver, her ears picking up the sound of Lenny shouting her name with worry.

She jerks her head to the side purposefully to give the man’s head a clean shot as she grips at the man’s arm tightly, her eyes shutting and the woman bracing as she hears the crackle of a gun fire. Blood splatters onto the side of her face and neck as the bullet Arthur had fired pierces through the Conductor’s forehead. She winces with disgust and shoves the corpse off of her, her chest heaving with her panting breaths as she watches the corpse crumple onto the ground rushing by below.

(Y/N) looks to Arthur, the man standing in a strong stance with his pistol lifted, his other hand lowered and grasping his rifle in an iron hold. Arthur exhales slowly and deeply, slowly lowering his gun as he rushes forward with Lenny in tow. 

“Thanks,” (Y/N) quietly says with gratitude, nodding to the man with softened eyes. 

Arthur lets out a soft, dismissive huff. “Ain’t need to thank me for that, darlin’.”

“I’m going up to stop the train!” Lenny shouts to the two, rushing past them with urgency.

Arthur looks towards Lenny before nodding down to (Y/N), his hand reaching out and grasping her shoulder in a gentle, firm hold as Lenny yanks the brake of the train downward. The train’s wheels screech loudly in protest as they come to an abrupt halt, sparks flying on the tracks as the large vessel begins to slow. Steam hisses from the train as it crawls to a stop alongside the face of the mountain, (Y/N) keeping her footing steady thanks to Arthur’s hand on her shoulder.

“Get to cover! More are bound to come out!” (Y/N) calls to Lenny urgently, nodding to Arthur as the two quickly make their way off the train.

Lenny leaps down from the train and follows the two closely as they find cover behind a cluster of snow-covered rocks, and just as she predicted, guards begin to flood out of the cars of the train, well-aware of the situation now. 

“There better be some money at the end of this!” Lenny shouts anxiously, firing at a guard on top of the train.

“All these bastards must be guarding somethin’ !” Arthur points out. 

(Y/N) snorts in agreement as she fires multiple shots at the guards leaving the train, Arthur focusing on taking down those who get too close for comfort as he remains close to (Y/N)’s position.

“How’re you doin’, Lenny?” (Y/N) calls with a hint of worry, her eyes tracking a guard like a hawk before she fires, striking him in the knee as Arthur fires and shoots him in the chest. 

“I’m fine!” Lenny assures a bit breathlessly, swallowing thickly as he fires at another guard on top of the train. 

Arthur nods with approval at this, respecting the kid was holding his ground and keeping calm. “Good.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes widen as even more guards flood out of the cars, her face falling with disbelief as she quickly ducks behind the rock as bullets are fired in her direction. Arthur grunts and adjusts his position to be more covered, his frame hovering behind (Y/N)’s as he wields his rifle.

“Damn, he’s got an army! Who is this guy?!” Lenny shrieks with disbelief, firing multiple rounds into a handful of guards while keeping to cover smartly.

“You’re doin’ good, kid!” Arthur calls back in a calm, reassuring tone, shooting down a guard a few feet away.

(Y/N)’s ears ring lightly as she fires shots into any guard she sees, her hand digging out more ammo as she works on reloading her revolver. “Where are the others? They should’ve caught up by now!”

Arthur growls under his breath with frustration and shakes his head in response, feeling aggravated that they were pinned down and unable to truly fight back. Spotting an opening, Arthur gently grabs hold of (Y/N)’s shoulder, gaining her attention as he keeps low while darting to cover, (Y/N) following without question or doubt. They press into the rock side by side, Lenny hanging back for a moment before following after the two on a higher ledge, the three continuing to hold their ground against the guards of the train. 

“God damn it!” Lenny groans with exasperation, his eyes wide as more guards leave the back cars of the train. “I thought that was all of them!”

(Y/N) feels her chest tighten with an unsettling feeling as she looks at the sheer amount of guards, recognizing just how much they must have cost for Leviticus Cornwall to hire. The private car, the guards, the train itself… 

Was Dutch underestimating him?

The thought was alarming and filled her with a cold dread, Hosea’s warnings ringing in her ears over the gunfire as she shakes her head rapidly. She had to keep her focus— distractions and doubt get you and others killed. The amount of guards was overwhelming, but the three kept strong, and over the gunfire, the familiar, roaring sound of horses galloping fills the area, along with their whinnies and neighs.

“There they are!” Lenny exclaims with utter relief.

(Y/N) exhales a sharp, relieved breath as she looks out from cover, Arthur doing the same. Dutch rides in on The Count with his guns blazing, Arthur’s horse lassoed and tied down to the horn of his saddle as he gallops alongside the man. Javier smoothly dismounts his horse, though he has a light limp— no doubt from his fall— as he lands, raising his shotgun and blasting it through a guard who had been caught off guard. Micah remains on his horse as he fires blindly at the guards, Charles riding on the backside of Taima and firing quick, clear shots with his shotgun as she raced by the guards with grace and speed. Bill rides in on Brown Jack, taking shots at the remaining guards as well.

“Come on!” Dutch’s voice shouts hoarsely with confidence. “Let’s clean this up, boys!” 

They make quick work of the guards due to having flanked them, bodies littering the area. Blood seeped into the ground and was splattered along the patches of snow, (Y/N) and Arthur rising from cover along with Lenny. (Y/N) lowers her bandana and pants softly as she recollects herself, the woman slowly tucking her revolver away in her holster. 

Arthur slides his repeater onto his shoulder with a steadying breath, his eyes flicking around at the others with gratitude and relief. Lenny stumbles from cover and pants heavily, sweat dripping along his temple as he makes his way towards them, walking alongside the two as they approach the others.

“Good shootin’, kid,” Arthur calls in praise, nodding with a faint smile.

“I can see now why the O’Driscolls brought so many boys up here for this,” Lenny replies with a breathless laugh, his hands shaking with adrenaline. 

The men dismount their horses, their whinnies filling the air as they move restlessly, but they never wander despite being agitated due to the gunfight that took place seconds before. 

“Are you three alright?” Dutch calls with concern lacing his voice.

(Y/N) softly grunts in pain as she rubs at her neck and shoulder, the muscle there aching from her fall onto the train. “We’re fine.”

“Let’s get the money and go,” Arthur insists with a hint of weariness, the man clearly over the robbery as he looks up at the darkened sky. 

Dutch nods as he begins to approach the private train car, his pistol drawn and his bandana still raised over his lower face. His posse follow loyally after him, each keeping an eye out on the area around them for any sign of trouble.

“We got some fellers holed up in this last car,” Dutch points out, nodding to the door that was still locked tight.

(Y/N) softly groans with exasperation and exhaustion, her fingers gently lifting her mask over her nose as she walks alongside Arthur. 

“Aw, shit,” Arthur grumbles with annoyance, sighing.

“What are you boys planning on doing in there?” Dutch calls loudly with amusement as he approaches the car, coming to a stop a few paces away. “Listen to me. We don’t want to kill any of ya…” He paces before slowing, quietly murmuring, “Any more of ya…” 

Arthur chortles softly at this, snickers heard from some of the other men as well. (Y/N) smiles faintly behind her mask with a hint of amusement, the woman much too tired to find much humor in the situation. 

“I give you my word, but trust me… we will!” Dutch threatens in a firm, bold manner, continuing to pace like a lion in a cage.

“ I work for Leviticus Cornwall !” a muffled voice shouts from inside sternly.

“Come on, boys!” Dutch implores with exasperation. 

“ We got our orders ,” the voice insists. “ We ain’t opening this door! ”

Dutch scoffs through his teeth, his eyes narrowing. “Okay. You asked for it. Five!” 

He lifts his hand up even though those inside couldn’t see it, his pacing increasing and his form taunt, like a serpent ready to lash out at any given moment.

“Four!” Dutch growls, the man losing his patience as he shakes his head. “Three, two, one,” he quickly counts down, turning to the group with narrowed eyes. “Seems our friends have gone deaf.”

Dutch draws his pistol and stomps over, coming to a stop beside Arthur as he lifts his gun, aiming it to the train car. 

“Wake ‘em up a little!” he commands, his voice like iron. 

(Y/N) draws her revolver and takes aim, the others quick to do the same with their own pistols and revolvers as well. Bullets fly relentlessly into the side of the train car, the bullets biting away at the metal slowly and a few sparks seen. Faint protests could be heard from inside, but the sound of the gunfire drowns them out easily. Arthur keeps his revolver low, firing quick, multiple shots in succession, one of the bullets piercing through the light attached to the train car and the glass shattering.

“That’s enough!” Dutch orders, and instantly the gunfire ceases at his command. “Mr. Williamson, give Miss (L/N) and Mr. Smith some dynamite… you two, go blow that door open.”

(Y/N) leans around Arthur and reaches out, taking the offered dynamite sticks from Bill before steadying out once more. Arthur watches as she and Charles approach the train car, (Y/N) holding out a stick of dynamite to Charles as the man reaches over and plucks it from her grasp. 

“Now don’t matter too much to us,” Dutch starts in a boisterous voice, addressing those inside. “But you boys in there, you might wanna take a step back.”

Charles, with his tall frame, easily applies the dynamite to the upper portion of the train car door, (Y/N) opting to place hers carefully in the center of the door. She ensures it was secure before stepping back with a small nod to Charles, who returns it.

“Seems good enough,” Charles mumbles as he views over the dynamite, taking out two matches.

(Y/N) takes it and lifts her boot, sliding the end of the match along the ridges as Charles does the very same. Their matches catch fire with hisses, the two lighting their dynamite sticks. (Y/N) tosses her match down into a snowy patch as she quickly backs up with Charles, the woman coming to a stop beside Arthur. Arthur shifts himself to be partially in front of the woman as the fuses of the dynamite sticks hiss, the others watching with bated breath as the seconds tick by. 

Bracing herself, (Y/N) winces as the dynamite goes off, her hand instinctively reaching out and grasping Arthur’s arm when offered to steady herself. Her ears faintly ring as she shakes her head out, smoke enveloping the train car’s door for a moment. As the smoke clears, it reveals the train car door was successfully blasted off the hinges, scorch marks on the metal surrounding it. 

“Alright, come on!” Dutch gruffly orders to those inside, Javier and Bill keeping their rifles fixed on the door. “Just walk on out here.”

Those inside have no choice but to follow his command, knowing they were outmatched. Javier swiftly approaches with his rifle fixed on those who exit the car with their hands held up, Charles’ gun aimed downward as he hovers on their other side, ensuring none tries to escape. Micah chuckles lowly under his breath at the sight, (Y/N) slowly releasing Arthur’s arm with a nod of gratitude towards him. 

“We don’t wanna kill you,” Dutch assures the men who exit the car, smirking under his mask. “We just want to rob your boss.” He looks back to Micah, Lenny, (Y/N) and Arthur, nodding to the train. “Get on up there. Search the train.”

(Y/N) nods at Dutch in acknowledgement, her and Arthur walking alongside one another as they approach the train with Micah and Lenny ahead of them. Bill, Javier and Charles handle keeping the handful of men inside in check outside with Dutch, Micah stepping up into the train car with Lenny. (Y/N) grabs hold of the train and pulls herself up after them, Arthur lingering back with his hand lifted to help if she needed it before following in after her

(Y/N) can’t help but feel in awe of the interior of the train car, her eyes wide as she looks around slowly. It was fancier than any hotel she’d seen, the lights inside almost blinding with how many their were. The flooring was plush carpet with beautiful designs on it, the interior nearly the width of some houses she’s seen. Chandeliers hung overhead, a luxurious couch against the window and fancy, floral patterned curtains on the windows themselves. A lone, polished desk sat at the far end of the car, the scent of alcohol stinging the air, a tray of drinks on a end table beside the couch.

“Look at this place,” Lenny breathes out with shock and awe. “It’s like a palace!”

“You’re tellin’ me,” (Y/N) agrees as she looks around with wide eyes, shaking her head. 

Arthur seems a tad overwhelmed by it all, the man grunting softly in agreement. “Now I’ve seen everything,” he comments with dry humor, knowing full well just to decorate the car it must have cost hundreds of dollars. Shaking his head, he looks back to Micah and Lenny. “You two, get the safe. (Y/N) and I will search the rest.”

Micah lights up at the mention of the safe, his eyes flicking behind him to the safe tucked against the wall. 

“Oh, yes,” Micah says with anticipation. “Should be easy as cake.”

Arthur only grunts in response, his hand reaching out and resting on (Y/N)’s back as he guides her away from the two further into the car.

He looks back to the two before turning his attention to (Y/N), the man lowering his head to speak in her ear. “See anythin’ you like, keep it tucked away for yourself, darlin’,” he lowly murmurs with a hint of playfulness only reserved for her, pulling back with a mischievous wink as the corner of his lips tug up in a faint smirk.

(Y/N) feels her cheeks flush with warmth as her eyes snap up to the man, her lips curving up in a delighted, sheepish smile behind her mask. She softly chuckles as Arthur pulls away, her chest feeling warm as she shakes her head with amusement. She turns her attention on searching through any drawer and shelf she encounters, not wanting them to miss anything. 

“If you’re just gonna sit there, kid, pour me some Brandy, will ya? I’m parched.” 

She looks over with narrowed eyes at the sound of Micah’s voice addressing Lenny, Lenny standing at the entrance of the train car and Micah knelt down in front of the safe as he works on cracking it. 

“Shut up,” Lenny dismisses with annoyance. “Me, (Y/N) and Arthur did all the work.”

“Yeah, we did,” (Y/N) proudly calls over with a nod to Lenny, feeling a hint of pride at the fact he wasn’t letting Micah order him around.

Arthur glances over as he rummages through a drawer, nodding. “Yeah, kid did good. I didn’t see you rushin’ to jump on that train.” 

Micah scoffs softly at this, lifting his hands in mock surrender before returning his hands to the safe.  “He’s keen, I’ll give you that.”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes lightly as she turns her attention to an end table, the woman spotting a letter. She ignores Micah mumbling to himself as he works on the safe, her eyes flicking along the words as her brow furrows. $2,000 dollars for exploring the Wapiti Indian Reservation? The amount makes her lightheaded, and she feels a pang of anger. She wasn’t sure what that truly meant, but she did know those reservations were some of the few things the Natives had left, and if an oil man was interested, it wouldn’t end well. 

Shaking her head, she shoves the letter into her bag as she continues to search around, the woman pausing when she spots something glinting on a shelf. She reaches upward and manages to grab hold of it, her hand lowering down as she looks down at the object. Her features light up at the sight of the beautiful pocket watch, the designs unique in a way she’d never seen before. The designs were carved in and seemed to be dusted in what she believes to be gold, the watch itself a beautiful platinum and no doubt brand new. It hung off a long, sturdy chain, the face of the watch porcelain and the second hand ticking softly. 

(Y/N) looks over to where Arthur was searching over the desk, a smile forming beneath her mask. She decides she’ll give it to him at a later time when they’re alone, the woman tucking the pocket watch safely into her satchel before returning to searching around. 

“Ah, see! That’s how it’s done!” Micah boasts as he unlocks the safe, popping it open and peering inside. “Shit!” he growls with annoyance, aggressively grabbing at the papers and searching through them. “Just a pile of papers!”

“Bonds?” Arthur calls in question.

Micah shakes his head, frowning as he looks over the paper. “I don’t think so.” He looks to Lenny, roughly holding the papers out. “Here. Make yourself useful. Least we all know you can read.”

Lenny scoffs, reaching out and snatching the papers. “Gimme those.”

Micah searches through some of the papers, frowning. “Railroad contracts, invoices… blah, blah blah. You got anything?”

“Not really. Sugar imports from the Spanish West Indies… a lot of sugar. Some fancy new boat he’s ordered from Europe,” Lenny lists off, shaking his head. 

Micah bitterly chuckles. “I am not robbing another boat as long as I live.”

(Y/N) lowers down as she inspects a low cabinet, perking up as she spots a lockbox hidden away inside.

“Arthur,” she calls softly, making him look over from the bookshelf he’d been inspecting. 

Arthur approaches in a few strides and lowers down so that he is kneeling beside her, his head ducking partially and bringing them closer as he peers inside at the lockbox. 

“Good job, darlin’,” he murmurs softly with approval, reaching inside and dragging the metal box out.

(Y/N) smiles to herself under her mask as she watches Arthur pry the box open with his hunting knife, and there inside were the bonds. The bonds were stacked neatly and clipped together with a clip that no doubt could provide food for days with the amount it’s worth, Arthur reaching inside and carefully taking the paper gold. 

“We got ‘em!” Arthur calls over to Micah and Lenny, his voice rough as he rises from the floor. 

He offers his free hand to (Y/N), prompting her to take it as he helps her rise. His hand releases hers to then rest on her back in subconscious habit, the man walking alongside her as they make their way to the back of the train car. 

“Nice!” Lenny says with relief, turning as he hops down from the train car.

“Thank God,” Micah grumbles as he rises, dusting his coat off. “Well, come on!” he urges, following after Lenny outside.

(Y/N) huffs softly at his impatience, but says nothing as she and Arthur approach the doorway of the train car. Arthur extends his arm in front of her, (Y/N)’s heart clenching at the gesture as she takes it, using it as support as she lowers herself down carefully. Arthur keeps still as she does this, the man then following once he knew she was steady on the ground. 

“What did you find?” Dutch questions as he strolls over, Arthur and (Y/N) meeting him halfway.

Arthur lifts the bonds, nodding his head. “These. Bonds. They worth anything?”

He holds them out to Dutch, Dutch’s eyes lighting up as he reaches out to take them. Dutch unhooks the clip as he shifts through the stack of bonds, nodding his head.

“Oh, sure!” he replies with delight and approval. “Bearer bonds. I think we can probably sell these pretty easily.” Dutch’s dark eyes flick between the two with pride, the man nodding. “Well done.”

(Y/N) nods slightly with a small smile hidden behind her mask, Arthur shrugging a shoulder in nonchalance. Dutch turns to the others with a nod, prompting them to return back to their horses.

“Now, will you two get rid of all this?” Dutch questions as he motions to the train, then to the group of people on the ground.

“Sure thing,” (Y/N) replies with a nod, knowing it’d be easy enough. She pauses, looking over to the group of men. “What about them?”

Dutch’s eyes follow hers to the bystanders. “It’s up to you,” he dismisses with a faint chuckle. “Kill them, leave them here, put ‘em on the train… just make sure they don’t send no folk after us.”

Arthur stares down at the small group of men, who cower under his intense stare, Dutch making his way to The Count as he safely tucks the bonds away into his satchel. 

“Okay,” Arthur calls to Dutch in acknowledgment. 

“See you both back at camp!” Dutch grunts as he mounts The Count, nodding to the two. “We will be moving on tomorrow, so make sure you both get a good night’s rest.” He turns to the others. “Let’s ride!” 

With that, Dutch spurs The Count into a gallop, the other men following on their own steeds. Arthur’s horse remains, Dutch having untied the lasso from him and secured him to a nearby tree. (Y/N) steps closer to Arthur as she peers down at the three men, their expressions ones of fear and uncertainty. 

“What d’ya want to do?” Arthur questions softly, his hand lifting to adjust the brim of his hat.

(Y/N) sighs softly through her nose, shaking her head with a small shrug. “They’re not gonna do anything. Put ‘em on the train.”

Arthur nods at this. “Okay.”

He turns to the men as his eyes narrow dangerously. 

“Get on the train. Quick. All of you,” Arthur growls lowly, startling the men into complying. “You’re lucky the lady here’s feeling generous.” 

(Y/N) snorts softly and elbows his side gently as the three men scramble to their feet, their hands raised as they make their way to the opened train car. 

“Any bright ideas, I’ll kill all three of ya. So behave,” Arthur warns as he watches the men closely, his hand hovering near his pistol at his side. 

“We won’t tell a soul, I swear!” one of the men cries, hastily climbing onto the train. 

He’s followed by the other two, their movements clumsy due to their panic and fear no doubt. Arthur approaches and peers inside with a dark scowl, the man cowering at the couch with their hands still raised.

“If I hear so much as a footstep from this car, you’ll end up like all your friends out here!” he threatens, leaning back out as he starts to make his way along the train. 

(Y/N) approaches where his horse was hitched up, her hand resting on her revolver as she gently guides the horse closer, the woman then mounting the horse and settling on the saddle with a soft sigh. She keeps her eyes focused on the train car for any sign of movement, and once she hears the sound of the train hissing as the wheels begin to turn, she softly kicks her heels into the horse’s flanks, prompting him into a steady trot as he nickers gently. 

She steers the horse alongside the train as Arthur hops down from the engine’s car, the man approaching the two as she slows the animal to a stop. Arthur slides his foot into the stirrup and smoothly pulls himself up behind her, his arms reaching around her as he takes hold of the reins. The man lets out a deep, weary sigh as he turns the horse, his frame curled around (Y/N)’s as the two make their way back to camp, a comfortable silence settling between the two.

...

It was strange, (Y/N) thought to herself, how calm and almost peaceful things seemed at the moment, when barely a week ago they’d been fighting for their lives, damn near freezing and starving to death. It was nice— familiar, and filled her chest with a warmth that she only felt with Arthur near. Peaceful, she realized. That was the word she’d been thinking of. It made her feel a brief sadness that the concept of feeling at peace was almost foreign now, but glancing around her at the group, she felt herself smiling softly. 

The group was in obvious better spirits thanks to having had good, hearty meals for the past few days, an air of joy and comfort seeming to blanket them as they sit around one another. Idle chatter and conversations fill the space, the glow of the fireplace and a few lanterns along the benches lighting the area. Jack was heartily scarfing down his bowl of food from where he sat on the floor near the fire, Abigail softly and fondly scolding him as she gently ran her fingers through his hair in a motherly manner. She glances over to where John resided with her sapphire blue eyes, hesitating at the sight of the man propped up against the wall eating alone, his expression grumpy as usual. 

(Y/N)’s eyes follow Abigail as the woman rises and approaches John, and though she couldn’t hear their conversation, she could practically imagine how it’s going; John grumbling something or other about being fine, Abigail dismissing this while pretending to be indifferent or annoyed, when in reality, she wanted to be near the man. Abigail lowers to sit in the chair near John’s makeshift bed, and the man watches Abigail for a moment, his visible eye averting down to his stew as he sighs, continuing to eat. 

The heat from the bowl of stew in her hands seeps through the thick material of her gloves, the warmth causing her skin to tingle faintly as she softly sighs with contentment. (Y/N) takes a bite of her own food, and while the seasoning left much to be desired, it still tasted like heaven after barely scraping by with cold cans of food. She glances to her side at the man sitting beside her, Arthur’s shoulders slumped with relaxation— something she rarely saw in the man nowadays,— and his eyes downward on his own bowl of stew. 

She smiles at the sight of his face, usually hardened with either determination or aggravation, softened, the previous exhaustion that highlighted his features seeming better as well lately. His beard was getting a bit long she noted, and she felt her fingers twitch with an urge to run through the curled strands. Clearing her throat softly to herself, her eyes snap downward to her stew as her cheeks become warm, and she was glad she could blame it on the glow of the fireplace. Just as she does so, Arthur’s eyes shift to her, the man seeming to observe her state and ensure she was comfortable enough and content, his fingers gently grasping the handle of his spoon as he chews on the meat of the stew. 

Arthur’s eyes flick around briefly before he looks back downward, the brim of his hat dipping into his forehead as his frame shifts a bit on the bench they were sharing. The motion causes his arm to lightly press against (Y/N)’s, who says nothing or shows any outward reaction on her face. However, she does allow herself to lean a bit towards Arthur in return, their arms pressing against one another as they eat in a comfortable silence.

Neither notice Mary-Beth watching the two from the corner of her eye, a wide, knowing grin on her face and a delighted gleam in her gaze. The woman lowers her stew bowl, tilting her head slightly as (Y/N) leans forward to set her empty bowl down onto the floor, her eyes catching a few specks of red on the skin of (Y/N)’s neck.

“(Y/N), you’ve got some…” Mary-Beth softly calls to gain her attention, motioning to her own neck as (Y/N) glances over.

(Y/N) frowns for a moment as her gloved hand reaches up, touching at her neck. “Oh. It’s from earlier. The train,” she informs with a nod, rubbing at the dried blood to no avail.

Mary-Beth hums at this, fetching a rag from her wool coat’s pocket. She reaches over as (Y/N) angles her head to the side, allowing Mary-Beth to wipe/scratch at the blood using the rag to clean her skin.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) quietly says with gratitude, earning a smile from Mary-Beth as she leans back to sit in her seat, tucking the handkerchief away. 

“How did that go? The train robbin’?” Tilly questions curiously, shifting in her own seat as she looks over at (Y/N) with curious brown eyes. “Dutch seemed to be in a pretty good mood. Haven’t seen him this jolly in a while.”

(Y/N) sighs slowly through her nose, straightening her back and rolling her shoulders as she nods. “I’m a bit sore from jumping onto the train while it was still movin’, but all things considered, the heist went off smoothly.”

This gains Karen’s attention, the woman looking over with interest as she chews on a mouthful of stew. “Wait, you had to jump onto the train? As in, the top of it? While it was moving?” she questions through a mouthful of food with disbelief, her voice somewhat muffled.

(Y/N) nods with a soft snort, having noticed Susan eyeing Karen with disapproval from where she sat. “Yeah. We did— Arthur, Lenny and I,” she confirms, spooning the last of her stew into her mouth and chewing slowly. “Had to get it to stop for Dutch and the others to catch up, too. Lotta guards on the train.”

Sadie looks up from her stew, her expression solemn as usual nowadays and her features exhausted. However, there was a glimmer of interest in the depths of her dimmed, warm brown eyes, her cheeks a slight shade of pink from the warm glow of the fireplace.

“Well, now you gotta tell us more,” Tilly excitedly insists with interest, leaning forward in her seat with a smile. “What happened?”

(Y/N) blinks as the other women (minus Sadie) all eagerly chime in agreement all at once, her eyes shifting between them as she lowers her spoon back down into her emptied bowl. (Y/N) lets out a soft, amused huff as she adjusts in her seat, glancing to her right to Arthur, who side-eyes her in return with a small smirk, mirth evident in his features and his brow partially lifted.

“You wanna tell them?” (Y/N) questions with teasing amusement, causing the man to snort softly.

Arthur shakes his head. “Naw, darlin’, you go on ahead. You tell stories better,” he replies lightly with a fond smile.

(Y/N) playfully and lightly rolls her eyes at this, neither noticing how Mary-Beth swoons at their interaction with a stifled, giddy sound, earning a light elbow to the side by Karen and an amused smile from Tilly.

(Y/N) clears her throat, sighing as she shifts in her seat to face the women more. “Well, it started off when the dynamite didn’t go off on the tracks…” She starts with a smile.

Arthur always enjoyed listening to her talk about their heists. Her excitement and mannerisms were downright darling to him, her features always lit up in a way that makes his heart feel funny in his chest. As she goes on to tell what happened, his eyes reluctantly flick away from her as he leans partially back in his seat, sighing softly. His attention was drawn to where John was, the man still sitting up and his stew bowl cast aside, Abigail still quietly eating her own dinner in the chair next to him. 

John had already been looking back at Arthur, his one visible eye narrowed slightly and his expression surly as usual nowadays, the man no doubt in a lot of pain from his injuries. Arthur’s stare hardens as his jaw ticks, his brow twitching downward in a slight furrow as he regards the younger man. Familiar anger begins to boil in his chest as he grunts with irritation softly, his head turning away from John purposefully and a stubborn glare on his face as he looks downward to the flooring. He exhales harshly as his hands flex restlessly, his hand then lifting to adjust the brim of his hat in habit.

“… And then, Arthur here saved me when the Conductor had me. Shot him right between the eyes, he did. Best damn shooter. I can always count on him having my back.”

(Y/N) mentioning his name causes Arthur to glance up, his facial features softening almost instantly when she turns to face him. His eyes flick to the other women as he clears his throat lightly, feeling a tad sheepish under their stares and the way (Y/N) was smiling up at him in the way that always made his head feel fuzzy.

“Was nothin’,” he quietly mumbles, though he feels a hint of pride in his chest receiving (Y/N)’s crediting and praise. 

(Y/N) scoffs at this as she gently elbows him, her smile never faltering. “Course it was something. Always humble, ain’t ya?” she teases gently.

This earns a grumble of mock-protest under his breath, Arthur shifting in his seat as he looks away. A hint of color creeps along his cheeks, his hand lifting to rub the back of his neck— a bashful habit that he thought he’d broken in his teenage years.

“Oh, how romantic!” Mary-Beth gushes with a delighted smile, her eyes sparkling with that look (Y/N) noticed she always got reading her stories. 

Arthur’s hand lowers from his neck to rest on his knee as he huffs with obvious embarrassment, though he tries to maintain an indifferent expression as he glances around the room, hoping the others were too distracted to have noticed the interaction. They’d never let him live it down if they overheard.

“Mary-Beth,” Tilly chides with a laugh, Karen snorting with amusement as she shakes her head with a faint smile. 

(Y/N) feels her cheeks becoming warm as she chuckles, her eyes flicking to Arthur as she notices his turned head. She feels a hint of disappointment she couldn’t see his reaction, but a strange, elated feeling fills her when she realizes that he had said nothing to correct or disregard Mary-Beth’s observation. Was it romantic to him? 

Her eyes return to Mary-Beth as the woman defends herself from Tilly with flushed cheeks, seeming to be embarrassed at having put her and Arthur on the spot. (Y/N) can’t help but laugh softly as she watches the three women, her chest feeling warm with delight. She was happy and thankful things were finally somewhat resembling how they were once before, and she couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come so they could journey off the mountain. If they could survive up here in this frozen hell, she thinks to herself, they can survive and prosper down in the east. 

Or so she had convinced herself.

-

The bedroom was filled with a calm, familiar and intimate silence as (Y/N) and Arthur ready themselves for bed, (Y/N) shrugging off her coat and shaking it out gently. The fabric was a bit wet from the snow having melted off it, but it had mostly dried thanks to the fact she’d been sitting near the fire at dinner.

Arthur was already comfortable in the bed on the outer side away from the wall, the man having insisted on taking that side nights ago to ensure that he didn’t accidentally cause (Y/N) to fall off the small bed. His hand raises and he plucks his hat from its perch, setting it on the nightstand beside him before running his fingers through his hair. He leans his head back against the flat pillow with a deep, tired breath, (Y/N) looking over him with a soft smile as he allows himself to relax. 

(Y/N) had already kicked off her boots, the woman draping her coat on the back of the chair by the vanity before climbing into the bed from the foot of it to avoid disturbing Arthur. She begins to settle in the bed under the covers, her eyes flicking to Arthur when she notices something. Her eyes light up subtly as she blinks quickly, Arthur now laying on his side facing her rather than his back and his left arm lifted. He wasn’t looking at her, his lips pressing together and his jaw shifting, his Adam's apple bobbing lightly as he gulped. (Y/N) tilts her head as she processes his arm as a wordless invitation, her cheeks flushing as she feels a surprising rush of giddiness fill her.

Arthur’s eyes hesitantly shift to (Y/N), her heart clenching at the uncertainty and vulnerability she detects in their depths. Was he worried she would reject the offer? Thinking back to the past few days, she doesn’t think Arthur had ever offered to cuddle— they just… sort of did it without saying a word. This was different— it felt different, anyway. More real, more intimate. 

Not wanting him to take it back, she lowers to lay down and wordlessly shifts herself closer to the man, smiling warmly as she looks up at him, hoping to soothe the man and reassure that she more than appreciated the gesture.

“Thank you,” she quietly says, her voice soft— as if she was trying to not spook him into retracting the gesture. She settles with a content sigh as her head tilts to rest against his chest, her arms tucked between their frames and her fingers gently grasping the front of Arthur’s shirt. 

“For warmth,” he mumbles under his breath, his voice raspy and holding something that distinctly sounded tender— though (Y/N) didn’t want to assume and get her hopes up.

She quietly exhales with a knowing smile at his half-hearted justification of their cuddling, finding it endearing how surprisingly flustered the burly man could get at times. She quietly hums in agreement, though both knew that it wasn’t just for warmth. She knew by the way his heart was pounding against her ear. And she knew he could probably feel her own in return. A soft yawn leaves her as Arthur shifts in the bed to get more comfortable, his arm adjusting around her before he settles, his frame losing tension almost instantly as he sighs deeply.

(Y/N) slowly melts further into Arthur as the minutes tick by, her racing heart, while still quick, slowing into a more bearable tempo. She takes a soft, slow and steadying breath, her frame beginning to warm up the longer the two remain cuddled up with one another. She could feel the rise and fall of Arthur’s chest against her cheek, the motion surprisingly calming and lulling her towards sleep. But she fights it off, wanting to savor this moment, knowing that their sleeping arrangements would return to normal once they were off the mountain.

The longer she laid in silence, the stronger the urge was to speak to Arthur— to ask him what he was thinking about when Mary-Beth had cooed at them. A small part of her was worried Arthur was potentially upset at being embarrassed, but a larger part of her knew that if he had been, he’d have let her know and dismissed what Mary-Beth had said. He was many things— honest, one of them, even if he was an outlaw. She swallows as she bites the inside of her cheek, and she builds up the courage to bite the bullet and ask.

“About what Mary-Beth said…” (Y/N) starts softly, feeling a bit sheepish but determined to not let her nerves get the best of her. “About what you did being… romantic—”

A quiet, faint snore occurs, causing her eyes to flick up to Arthur with surprise as she cuts herself off. She blinks at the sight of his peaceful, sleeping expression, her own features softening with both fondness and exasperation as she lets out a quiet sigh of amusement. He’d been falling asleep quickly lately, she noticed. Sometimes it’d take him hours to fall asleep, even in their youth, and it had only taken him a few minutes to drift off right at this very moment. Part of her couldn’t help but think maybe it was because of her, but that was just wishful thinking. 

“Maybe… I’ll ask you tomorrow,” she quietly whispers to herself, scoffing softly, knowing she most likely wouldn’t. 

But she didn’t mind. She was content with their relationship as it was, even if she did long for more, secretly hoping he might be doing the same. (Y/N) sighs softly, shaking her head at herself as she adjusts in the bed, her hand lowering as she tenderly fixes the blanket to drape over Arthur’s arm to make sure it wouldn’t get cold.

Arthur’s arm tightens around her when she moves, as if he was reassuring himself she was still there and safe even in his sleep, his thumb subconsciously stroking her lower back in a soothing manner before slowly stopping. Her heart skips a beat as she gazes up at Arthur with a faint, adoring smile, unable to stop herself from thinking just how much she truly enjoyed his presence. She never thought she’d ever be so dependent on someone after running away from her family, but, then again, she never anticipated meeting Arthur, Dutch and Hosea that fateful day. Shaking her head to herself, she takes a slow, deep breath, not wanting to think of memories of the time before Arthur and the gang, and instead wanting to just focus on being in his arms. 

(Y/N) allows herself to press closer into Arthur, his large frame almost instinctively accommodating her even in rest. His arm curled around her waist slowly loses its tight hold as he falls into a deeper sleep, but remains, his hand resting splayed on her back. His head adjusts on the pillow as he shifts, his chin lowering and resting on top of her head as she settles with her cheek against his chest, their forms generating warmth that fights off the chill that surrounds them. The wind outside their room whistles softly, as if trying not to disturb the two as they rest peacefully, both ready to face any challenge that was to come as long as they had one another. 

Chapter Text

Colter was alive with the hustle and bustle of the group, the neighing of horses heard over the chattering and barked orders from Susan. The sun was shining bright above with the early morning, the needles of the tall pine trees occasionally bristling with the random, gentle bursts of winds that sweep through them. Birds had finally emerged in the wake of the warming weather, their soft, melodic singing heard in the trees above as they danced along the branches with flutters of their wings.

“Mary-Beth!” Susan’s voice exasperatedly shrieks, the birds scattering at the sound through the trees and into the air. “Put that book away and go help!”

Mary-Beth’s form jolts atop the crate she sat on as she snaps her book shut, her face a bit pale despite the flush on her cheeks as she hastily rises. Karen, standing near one of the wagons, rolls her eyes lightly as she tosses a bag of supplies into the back, Tilly looking over to Mary-Beth scrambling with a sympathetic grimace.

Arthur exits the cabin they called shelter with a deep, gruff breath, his eyes flicking around at the commotion around him. He rubs a gloved hand along his face, the man feeling more well-rested than he had in ages. He noticed that mostly everything had been squared away in the caravans lined up on the melted, dirt path as he slept in (courtesy of (Y/N)), the shire horses hitched up and impatiently stamping at the ground with occasional huffs. He stands a bit taller as he spots (Y/N) leading his mahogany and white horse, the woman seeming to be gently speaking to the animal as she passes him off to Charles be tied and led along with the others as they make their descent off the mountain.

(Y/N) smiles softly and nods to Charles in thanks as he takes the horse, the woman sighing softly as she approaches where Hosea and Dutch currently stood. Arthur walks over as well as he adjusts his coat, the sound of the two men’s bickering filling his ears as he forces down a sigh.

“So,” he cuts in, causing the three to look over, (Y/N)’s features visible softening. “We gettin’ out of this hellhole?”

Dutch nods at this, leaning an arm on the large wheel of the wagon. “We’re gonna try. Weather seems stable.”

Hosea exasperatedly sighs as Dutch pushes off the wheel, heading off.

“And we just robbed a Leviticus Cornwall train!” he barks after Dutch in an accusatory manner, his eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his hat.

Dutch slows at this, turning around with an indifferent shrug. “We got money in our pockets. The worst is behind us, lady and gentlemen,” he assures, his arms lifting in a showman gesture.

(Y/N) frowns slightly as she leans against the caravan, her arms folding over her chest. “I hope so,” she quietly says to herself, earning a worried side glance from Arthur.

“So! The question is, where now?” Dutch questions in a cheerful mood, the group continuing to pack the remaining supplies they owned into the caravans around them.

Hosea exhales softly, shaking his head. “I know this country a little. I told you, we should set up camp in Horseshoe Overlook, near Valentine.”

Arthur leans against the wagon beside (Y/N) as they listen to Hosea, (Y/N)’s eyes following Simon as he hauls a heavy-looking sack over his shoulder with a slight hobble to his steps past them.

“We’ll be able to hide out there no problem,” Hosea continues, nodding. “As long as we keep our noses clean.” He throws a pointed look at Dutch.

Dutch doesn’t take notice of this, or if he does, he doesn’t care, instead smirking with a nod. “Well, then, let’s go! Clean noses and everything else!”

He clasps his gloved hands together with excitement, his eyes flicking to where Bill and Lenny aid in helping the injured John into the back of a caravan, Abigail hovering closely.

“Arthur, (Y/N), you’re in that one,” Dutch tells the two, motioning to a wagon of supplies at the end of the caravans. “Bring Hosea.”

Arthur and (Y/N) push off the wagon they’d been leaning on, Hosea watching Dutch and sighing softly as he starts to walk after the couple towards the caravan.

Dutch snorts with a roll of his eyes. “I know you three like to talk about the good old days and what’s gone wrong with old Dutch,” he calls after them in a joking manner, though something in his tone sounded almost… bitter. Accusatory.

(Y/N) looks back over her shoulder with slightly furrowed brows, but Dutch was already rounding a caravan and climbing up the side, his back to them. Did she imagine the subtle jab to his ‘playful’ words? Surely she did, or maybe she was just feeling more sensitive with the guilt of having doubted Dutch, as brief as it was.

Hosea frowns as he shakes his head to himself with a deep sigh, stepping closer to (Y/N) and setting his hand on her shoulder in a tender, reassuring gesture. This gains her attention and snaps her from her thoughts, her eyes flicking to the older man as he offers her a warm, familiar smile, the sight causing her own features to ease as tension begins to seep from her frame

“Wanna drive?” the voice of Arthur calls gruffly, causing (Y/N) to look ahead, the man staring back at her as he tilts his head to the wagon.

(Y/N) hums softly as she considers it briefly, shaking her head with a faint smile. “Naw, I’m okay. I’d rather enjoy the view.”

Arthur nods and turns, easily climbing up the side of the wagon. The man grunts softly as he settles in the seat, his frame slouching forward for a moment as he grabs hold of the reins, the two shire horses impatiently nickering and shifting restlessly in their harnesses in front of the wagon.

“I’ll ride in the back. Don’t need you falling off and breaking a hip or somethin’, old man,” (Y/N) tells Hosea in a friendly, teasing manner as they near, causing the man to release a bark of laughter.

“I appreciate it, my dear girl,” he fondly replies, shaking his head with mock exasperation, his hand squeezing her shoulder before he allows it to fall.

Arthur smirks with mild amusement at the two as his eyes follow (Y/N), Hosea rounding the horses and giving the one closest a gentle pat before he climbs up the right hand side of the wagon. (Y/N) plants her boot on the wheel and grabs hold of the side of the wagon, easily and smoothly pulling herself up, Arthur keeping watch and still, waiting for any indication she wants his help.

The man only relaxes and faces ahead once she fully pulls herself up, the woman sitting on a crate residing behind the two men in the center. A taller crate sat behind her, the seat she chose granting her enough closeness for conversation and a comfortable spot for her to rest her back, other luggage and supplies surrounding her. Once the other members of the gang were all readied up to head out, they were off.

-

The shire horses pulled the caravans with a bounce to their steps along the trail of the path, the horses no doubt eager to be off the frozen mountain. Wind gently whistles through the pine trees around the group as they make their descent, the sunlight’s warm glow casting along the land. The sound of the rushing stream traveling the landscape alongside them fills the air, birds fluttering around and disappearing into the trees.

(Y/N) and Arthur inaudibly speak, Hosea occasionally chiming in as Arthur guides the wagon after the caravans, Dutch up ahead leading them with Molly sitting at his side in the caravan he drove. The rest of the group was scattered among the other two caravans and the other wagon they owned, some riding their own horses alongside them and guiding others by leads attached to their halters.

The wagons leave trail marks in the snow as the wheels roll along the path, the snow soft and shallow enough that they don’t become stuck and offering little to no resistance against the horses pulling them. Finally, they cross through a shallow stream, the ground becoming more and more visible with freshly sprouted grass. The pine trees begin to thin out ever so slightly as other variants of trees begin, their branches only lightly dusted with snow, though for the most part, they were untouched.

“Lenny, Micah! Get over here!” Dutch barks, causing Micah to guide Baylock closer, Lenny atop of Maggie.

“Yes, boss?” Micah questions.

“You two ride up ahead and check the land out. Make sure there’s no surprises. We’ve had enough of those,” Dutch instructs.

Micah’s face tightens with distaste. “Me, with the boy?”

Dutch gives him a pointed look. “Just go,” he growls with exasperation.

Micah rolls his eyes, but he wisely doesn’t argue. “Come on, kid.” He spurs Baylock into a gallop, Lenny following after on Maggie. “You can buy me a whiskey!”

Lenny doesn’t reply to this, though he does make a face that indicates he was less than pleased to have been paired with Micah. Dutch watches as they ride off on their horses, the man continuing to lead the others as he steers the caravan along the path, Simon sitting beside him.

Soon enough, the snow around them was no more, replaced by grassy fields and dark-toned dirt. The group wind around the descending hills, heading further East as they leave behind the snowy mountains they’d taken shelter in. Traversing the paths, the horses begin to pick up speed as their joints warm, though they maintain steady enough to keep the wagons and caravans from rocking.

(Y/N) sighs softly as she leans against the crate behind her, the woman glancing up at the sky with a relieved smile. The sun shines down onto her features, and she even begins to feel a bit warm in her thick coat. She rests her arm along the back of the seat Arthur and Hosea sat in, her eyes taking in the beauty of the land. It was so green— so different from the West, where beige and yellows were more common than the wildflowers and earthy dirt surrounding them. The trees were thick and full of leaves as well rather than sparse, the trees standing tall overhead and casting shadows.

Arthur guides the two shire horses along the path after the others, his eyes occasionally drifting around as he also takes in the new, unfamiliar environment. He was apprehensive— it was all so new, so different— but he could appreciate the beauty in everything as well. The horses near the stream that drops into a waterfall to their right, the man grunting softly as he feels a strange, tipping motion.

(Y/N) exclaims with surprise when the wagon jerks and begins to unsteadily wobble, her arm flailing out as she loses her balance and nearly slips off the crate. Her hand lightly smacks the back of Arthur’s head unintentionally from the motion, earning a surprised, baffled bark of laughter from the man as his hand quickly adjusts his hat before it could fall off.

“I’m sorry!” (Y/N) exclaims as a slip of laughter leaves her, her hands reaching out and grasping Arthur’s shoulders for balance.

“Get us out the stream,” Hosea instructs Arthur sternly, yet not unkind, the older man grasping the edge of his seat to keep upright and a faint, amused smile on his lips. “Keep us moving, but calm.”

Arthur listens to the older man, soft shushes leaving him as the shire horses anxiously snort. He guides the horses with a gentle flick of the reins, prompting them to fully cross the stream and up onto the path. (Y/N) leans over the side partially as one of her hands remains on Arthur’s shoulder, her eyes watching the wheel wobble unnaturally on the path.

“It’s gonna—” She winces, the wheel collapsing with a snap and popping off the rim of the wagon. “— break.”

She watches as the wheel rolls a few paces before coming to a halt, the wheel tilting on its side and falling with a soft thud onto the path. The shire horses neigh softly in protest as the wagon wobbles, the rim digging into the ground and dragging a bit, causing resistance.

“Aw, shit!” Arthur hisses with irritation, gently tugging the horses to a halt.

Charles, riding on the wagon ahead with Bill, glances back with furrowed brows. He lifts his hand, causing Bill to glance at him with an annoyed look before he pulls the horses to a stop. Javier tugs Boaz to a stop as he looks back as well, the man looking back as Charles hops off the wagon in a silent, elegant movement.

“Okay… let’s take a look,” Hosea says calmly, his eyes following the other caravans as they continue down the trail.

“You alright back there?” Bill calls over his shoulder.

“Oh, yes, everything’s perfectly fine. That’s why we stopped,” (Y/N) answers with a hint of sarcasm lacing her words, the woman rising and slowly shuffling down the slanted wagon.

“Well, what’s going on?” Javier questions as he turns Boaz to face them.

Arthur rises and grunts as he hops off the side of the wagon, the man sighing roughly at the sight. “Ah, I broke the goddamn wheel!” he growls with exasperation and annoyance, throwing his hand up towards the wheel.

(Y/N) couldn’t help the soft snort that leaves her, a soft grunt escaping her lips as she hops off the wagon. She steadies her footing as she looks around their surroundings for a moment, her hands resting on the gun belt around her waist.

“Alright!” Hosea cheerfully exclaims, climbing off the wagon. “Let’s get it fixed!”

Arthur crouches down as he observes the rim of the wagon, (Y/N) approaching and standing behind him. She lowers down as well, her head tilting as she peers at the rim, noting it didn’t seem too damaged thankfully, and could keep together long enough for them to get to camp no doubt.

“You need help?” Javier calls with worry, adjusting on Boaz.

Charles lightly jogs over as (Y/N) straightens up, her eyes flicking to him as she offers him a faint, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mr. Smith.”

The man says nothing, but his features weren’t as hardened as they normally were as he nods in return, his thick, wool coat almost comical in the warm weather they now found themselves in.

“I reckon we can handle it,” Hosea assures, nodding his head. “Go ahead and grab the wheel, my dear girl.”

(Y/N) nods, the woman turning. “Got it.”

“Alright— Arthur, you, me and Charles hold the thing up while she gets the wheel on,” Hosea instructs as he approaches the end of the wagon, gaining the men’s attention.

Arthur’s brow arches as he approaches, the man turning and lowering as his hands grasp the bottom of the wagon. “You still strong enough to hold up a wagon?” he questions bluntly.

“Shut up,” Hosea replies, his tone upbeat.

He stands beside Arthur, lowering and grabbing hold of the bottom of the wagon, Charles moving on Hosea’s other side and doing the same.

“I’m just sayin’!” Arthur defends with an innocent look.

“Well, say less!” Hosea chides playfully.

(Y/N) shakes her head with a fond roll of her eyes, the woman shifting as she hoists the wheel back upright. It was taller than she was by a few inches, and was heavy, her gloved hands adjusting on the sides. She rolls it over carefully and shifts while keeping a grasp on it, her eyes scanning over the rim.

“Lift it,” she urges the three with a nod, her hands grasping the spokes of the wheel.

Her arms flex as she lifts the wheel with a quiet, sharp exhale, the woman shuffling closer to the rim as the three men lift the wagon upward. Arthur purposefully lifts more weight on his side, not wanting Hosea to strain himself too badly, Charles holding his own as well, as his hand had healed decently over the last few days.

(Y/N) slides the wheel onto the rim and exhales through her mouth as the strain of the weight was released off her, her form angling to the side as she plants her feet firmly onto the ground. She angles her shoulder just so, and firmly rams it into the wheel. The wheel jerks at the contact and slowly slides further into place with each strike of her shoulder, her hand pushing the boxing of the wheel to keep it steady and even. It finally secures, the woman perking up at this.

“Done!” she declares with a breathless chuckle, rising and rubbing her shoulder gently, a dull throb to it.

Hosea exhales with relief as he releases the wagon, the older man straightening up and rubbing his lower back with a wince. Arthur and Charles release the wagon as well, the wheel holding up decently. Charles rubs his hand gently as Arthur adjusts his hat, Arthur stepping closer to the wheel and looking over it.

“Looks good, darlin’,” he praises in a husky voice with a nod, smiling with approval as he reaches out to test the secureness of the wheel with a gentle tug. “I’ll tighten the bolt for ya.”

(Y/N)’s heart flutters oddly in her chest, an unfamiliar feeling of… was it bashfulness? washing over her. She clears her throat as she smiles, nodding with a small shrug of her shoulder.

“Thanks,” she replies, and was glad she could blame the warmth of her cheeks on the sunlight now.

Arthur’s eyes linger on her face for a moment, her head tilting in wordless question. However, he says nothing as he remains put for a moment, though his attention is drawn to Hosea as he notices his hobbling.

“See, you ain’t so useless after all,” Arthur teases the older man, patting him on the back.

Hosea lets out a bark of laughter at this as he straightens up, rubbing his lower back with his hand as he shuffles to where some of the luggage and crates had fallen off.

“Not quite!” Hosea plays along, his voice a bit breathless as he picks up a box.

(Y/N) gathers a few of the sacks that had slipped off, gathering them carefully as Charles hoists a large crate up, Arthur grabbing a tool from the back of the wagon. He approaches the wheel, lowering a bit as he begins to tighten the bolt. (Y/N) straightens up as she throws the sack over her shoulder, the woman pausing. Her chest tightens with a familiar warning someone was watching her, her eyes darting around warily. She looks upwards, her hardened scowl faltering with surprise at the sight of three men on the ridge atop horses.

“Hosea,” she softly calls with a hint of apprehension, though she had a feeling they meant no harm.

Hosea glances over, a lockbox held in his hands. “What is it, my dear?”

He steps closer before following her gaze, his brown eyes locking onto the three men and squinting against the sunlight. Arthur finishes tightening the bolt and wipes some sweat from his brow, his sweater uncomfortable around him now that they were out of the snow. Arthur notices the two standing still, the man almost immediately on edge as he looks upward, spotting the three men. Charles does the same at the silence, the soft sound of a hawk screeching in the wind heard faintly from nearby.

Hosea’s gloved fingers scratch at his jaw in thought as he regards the men, (Y/N)’s hand lifting to block out the sunlight from her eyes. The three men on the ridge overlooking them wore clothing that was practical while also beautiful, their skins shades of tawny brown and their hair different, long lengths and dark in color. One was clearly elder to the other two, his eyes gentle but haunted, a man resembling the elder youthful and fit with a scowl of righteous fury, the third, calm and stoic with a deep, contemplative frown. The three Native men stare down at the four, their horses standing tall and proud.

“What do you think?” Arthur quietly questions, setting the tool back into the wagon before stepping closer, his frame tall behind (Y/N) as he watches the men warily.

Charles watches the three men, shaking his head slightly as his arm rests on the wagon. “If they wanted trouble, we wouldn’t have seen them,” he calmly replies.

(Y/N) glances to Charles with a short nod, her eyes returning to the three men. Hosea lifts his hand in a friendly wave, his hand hovering for a moment.

“Poor bastards,” he quietly comments, his voice full of sympathy. He sighs softly as he lowers his hand, turning to the others. “We really screwed them over down here.” He gestures to the few remaining boxes. “Come on. Let’s not push our luck.”

Arthur and Charles both begin to gather the remaining boxes and sleeping rolls as Hosea does the same (Y/N)’s gaze lingering on the three men. She lifts her hand with a tentative, friendly smile, their eyes seeming to pierce through her even from the wide distance between them. She turns as she approaches the wagon, snatching up a small crate as she does so. She sets it down carefully before grabbing hold of the wagon, pulling herself up smoothly.

“What happened?” Arthur questions Hosea, referring to his comment of them screwing the Natives over.

“Well,” Hosea sighs out softly, passing a crate to Charles. “Get in, and I’ll tell you.”

(Y/N) settles onto the crate she’d been on previously, her eyes flicking to Hosea as he rounds the wagon. “I’ve heard… bits and pieces of what’s goin’ on. Most of it’s propaganda.”

Arthur hoists the remaining crate into the back of the wagon, the man dusting his gloved hands off as he makes his way back to the driver’s seat. Charles grabs hold of the wagon and pulls himself up, (Y/N) glancing over with a small, friendly smile. He simply nods in greeting as he settles himself on a crate near her, his frame facing her partially as his eyes scan along the woods.

“Not too far now,” Hosea tells Arthur as the large man grabs the reins. “Stay on this trail. We’ll follow the river, then cut left inland.” He clears his throat in three bursts, something he always does before diving into a tale— be it real or not. “So, yes… the Indians in these parts got sold a very raw deal. This is the Heartland’s we’re going to. Good farming and grazing country, they lost it all.” He exhales a humorless chuckle. “Stolen clean away from them, it was. Every blade of grass. Killed or herded up to the reservations in the middle of nowhere.”

“The Wapiti Reservation,” (Y/N) breathes out, the letter she’d found on the Cornwall train flicking through her mind. They can’t even let the Natives have that— no, they have to have everything, all in the name of so-called civilization and profits. It would be taken from them, she had no doubts about that. Not after seeing the letter that Leviticus was interested in them.

Hosea nods at this, Charles shifting in his seat and letting out a bitter scoff.

“And how is that different from anywhere else?” Charles asks rhetorically.

“Well…” Hosea shakes his head, exhaling. “Maybe it’s not. I just heard some of the army out here was particularly, uh… unpleasant about it.”

Charles’ brow quirks. “Unpleasant? How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “We don’t, in spite of Dutch’s talk.”

(Y/N)’s heart tightens at his blunt words, knowing the man was right. Even though she tried to justify their actions as lesser of the evils out there, they still were unlawful folk. She herself tried to avoid robbing and killing those less fortunate, but it still didn’t make it right— at least, that’s what the common folk would claim. It’s been embedded to always have that default answer— ‘stealing and killing is just wrong’. But what if they stole from someone who stole from others? Who stole from the good, hardworking folk? What if they killed a powerful man who abused his status over others? Mistreated their workers? No one would mourn them, would they? They live and survive by killing folk who would do the very same to them.

But Dutch didn’t kill someone who’d been bad. He killed an innocent, unarmed woman on that boat.

Her form tenses as the thought bleeds into her mind before she could stop it, the thought a whisper— as if Dutch himself could hear her despite the fact he wasn’t even near. A sickening nausea fills her for a moment, and she shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she clears her throat.

“I fear I was perhaps trying to simplify something more complicated for the benefit of our blockheaded driver here,” Hosea replies to Charles, a teasing quality to his words as he lightly elbows Arthur’s arm.

“Hey, don’t blame it on me!” Arthur protests with a huff.

(Y/N) feels the tightness leaving her chest at the familiar, warm banter, a slip of laughter leaving her. “You doubt our lug too much, Hosea,” she playfully defends. “He’s smarter than you give him credit for.”

Her hand grabs Arthur’s hat off his head as he exclaims softly with surprise, a low, rumble of laughter leaving him as her hand begins to ruffle his hair. (Y/N) plops Arthur’s hat onto her own head, her fingers adjusting the brim of it as it sits proudly.

“Never forget, this here’s a conman, Charles,” Arthur warns lightheartedly over his shoulder in defense of himself. “Born and bred. Just ‘cause he sounds fancy doesn’t mean he knows a damn thing about what he’s talking about.”

Hosea rolls his eyes with a faint smirk, Charles letting out a quiet chuckle as (Y/N) grins widely with amusement. Her eyes flick along the path as they cross over a covered bridge, the woman sighing softly and tugging at the collar of her coat uncomfortably. Her eyes flick to Charles as her hand lowers, a hint of curiosity entering her gaze as she regards him, recalling his words of a black father and a Native mother.

“Did you have a tribe, Mr. Smith?” she asks in a genuine voice, tilting her head. “Before running with us, I mean.”

Charles’ gaze shifts to her, his expression becoming contemplative as he sighs. “I don’t think so. Least, not that I can remember.” His hand reaches up, and he scratches at his jaw. “I told you my father was a colored man… and, well, he told me he lived with our people for a while. A number of free men did, but…”

He hesitates, shaking his head. “When we were forced to move from our lands, the three of us fled. I was too young to really remember much. My whole life I’ve been on the run,” his voice becomes weary, the man’s eyes averting downward. “A couple years later, some soldiers captured my mother. Took her somewhere. We never saw her again. We drifted around…” His eyes become distant. “He was a very sad man and the drink had a mean hold on him. Around thirteen, I just took off on my own.”

(Y/N) listens with rapt attention, a small part of her caught off guard that Charles had been willing to share so much with them. Her expression was one of sympathy, Arthur’s head tilted to the side ever so slightly as he listened as well, though his eyes remained on the road as he guided the wagon along the winding trail through the small, grassy hills.

“That was around the age we found young Arthur here. Maybe a little older,” Hosea mentions, his hand patting the man’s shoulder lightly. He lets out a fond laugh. “A wilder delinquent you never did see, but when we found (Y/N) a couple years later, he finally began to mellow out a bit. She kept him in check, she did. They both learned fast.”

There’s a distinct pride to his words, (Y/N) smiling to herself as she looks down at her lap, her hands smoothing over her coat. A bitter chuckle leaves Arthur, causing her to look up.

“Not as fast as Marston, apparently,” Arthur comments humorlessly, pointing out the obvious favoritism.

(Y/N) lets out a weak laugh at this, Hosea sighing deeply as his shoulders slump, his hand removing off Arthur’s shoulder as he adjusts in his seat.

“Wait. I don’t understand,” Charles mumbles with confusion, his brow furrowing. “What’s the problem between you two?”

(Y/N) winces, her eyes darting to Arthur as she notices his grip tighten on the reins. “Oh, boy…”

“Arthur,” Hosea warns, side-eyeing the man in the driver's seat sternly.

Arthur lets out a low, annoyed grumble at this, shifting and shrugging a shoulder, his form visibly tensed. “It’s a long story,” was all he replied.

Charles frowns as his eyes flick to (Y/N), the woman offering him a tight-lipped smile. She gives a small shake of her head, indicating he wouldn’t get an answer from her, either. He doesn’t seem pleased, but he doesn’t pry, only nodding once as he decides to admire the view of the land.

“Are we still headin’ the right way?” Arthur questions as he guides the horses, his eyes flicking around the area.

Hosea smiles wryly. “That depends. Are we still heading west, in search of fortune and repose in virgin forests, as we planned? No.” He shakes his head. “Are we heading in the correct direction on our desperate escape from the law eastward down the mountains? Yes, I believe so.”

(Y/N) chortles softly under her breath at this, her eyes scanning along the trees with interest. A tall cliffside resides to their left as they move along the path, the soft sound of the wheels rattling along the path filling in the brief moments of silence.

“You know this area?” Charles questions Hosea curiously.

“A little. I’ve been through a couple of times,” Hosea answers. “There’s a livestock town not too far from here called Valentine. Cowboys, outlaws, working girls. Our kind of place.”

(Y/N) hums at this, the woman gently tugging her leather gloves off, as her hands were becoming unbearably warm. “I’m assumin’ our friends, the O’Driscolls, will be there, too?”

Hosea nods with a sight. “Yes, I assume so, too.”

“Pinkertons?” Arthur questions skeptically with a frown.

“Let’s… hope not,” Hosea replies with apprehension.

“And… Horseshoe Overlook is a good place for us to hide out?” (Y/N) asks as she shifts her frame, her head turned as she observes the side of Hosea’s face.

Hosea nods for confirmation. “It’ll do, for now.” He quietly scoffs. “Depends on how low Dutch is planning on lying.”

(Y/N)’s features tighten at this as she looks away, her hand reaching up as she adjusts Arthur’s hat over her head. “Yeah…”

“It’s just…” Hosea stifles a sigh, his eyes casting downward as he frowns. “You know… maybe it’s me who’s changed, not him, but… we kept telling him that ferry job didn’t feel right. We three had a real lead back in Blackwater that could’ve worked out.”

“Maybe,” Arthur drawls in partial agreement.

“It just—” Hosea starts again, fidgeting a bit with his hands as his brow furrows. “Isn’t like Dutch to lose his head like that.”

(Y/N) exhales softly, nodding in agreement. “We still… don’t even really know what happened. No one will tell us anything. Just… vague replies of things goin’ wrong and…” And Dutch killing a woman.

“Things go wrong sometimes,” Arthur quietly says as he sighs. “People die. It’s the way it is, always has been.” He guides the horses down the left hand path, recalling Hosea’s directions. “(Y/N), me, you, Dutch… we’ve all been in this line of work a long time, and we’re still here, so… I figure we must’ve got it right a hell of a lot more than we got it wrong.”

Arthur’s words are both reassuring, but also uncertain, (Y/N) picking up on his half-hearted justification. Maybe he was right. Surely they were doing something right if the four of them were still alive after more than twenty years of robbing and killing. They were smart, and Dutch and Hosea would certainly have a plan drawn up in no time at all. In the end, they always made it out alive, and they certainly would do it again. Pinkertons being after them makes no difference. Besides, they’ll stay in the west, she tells herself. The Pinkertons have no reason to suspect they’ve come this far east, and they stay where the money is. Things will settle down— they have to.

-

Soon enough, they near their destination, (Y/N)’s coat now shrugged off and resting on a crate near her folded neatly. She works on buckling her gun belt, her eyes flicking up as she notices movement in the thick brush of the trees. Several deer scatter at the sound of their wagon rolling along the path, her lips curving into a small smile at the sight of the beautiful, graceful creatures. Some pronghorn dart in between the trees as well, birds taking flight at the commotion with alarmed tweeting.

A subtle layer of morning dew was visible in the air, the mist cool on (Y/N)’s skin as she sighs softly, grateful she had removed her thick coat. Her eyes flick to Arthur, and she knew no doubt the man was suffocating in his own coat, some sweat building up along the back of his neck and temples. (Y/N) removes Arthur’s hat from her head before gently waving it to-and-fro, fanning the man lightly as she shifts to be facing him more. Arthur’s eyes flick to her briefly, a faint, grateful smile tugging at his lips as she fans him.

“There you are, brother!” a familiar voice calls fondly, Javier waving from where he stood in the trees. “Head in there and follow the tracks for a bit. Slow up a bit so I can hop on.”

Arthur urges the horses into a standstill as Javier pushes off the tree, the man jogging lightly over to the back of the wagon. He hops up with a soft grunt and lifts his chin in greeting to Charles and (Y/N), the man sitting with his back to them, his legs hanging off the edge of the wagon as he holds onto the side.

“Okay, let’s go!” Javier calls once settled.

The horses begin in a trot as Arthur guides them into the trees off the main path, the tracks of the wagons and caravans barely visible in the thick brush of the wooded area enveloping Horseshoe Overlook, granting it the perfect cover. No one would notice them there— not unless they knew exactly what to look for.

“Any trouble getting here, Javier?” Hosea asks with concern, glancing back at the man over his shoulder.

“Nope! It went well,” Javier replies with a faint smirk, clearly in better spirits. “This is a good spot.”

Some tension leaves Hosea’s features. “Excellent.” He sighs with relief, looking between Arthur and (Y/N). “I think this will work well for us. For now, anyway.”

“Seems like the perfect place for us,” (Y/N) chimes in agreement with a nod.

(Y/N) looks ahead with a growing sense of excitement, the prospect of being able to actually relax without worrying of freezing to death almost laughable, considering how they spent the last few days. Her eyes light up, a smile decorating her face as they emerge from the trees, the sight making her chest feel warm with hope.

The clearing was bustling with members of the group hard at work, tents already either set up or in the process of being set up by some of the men. The women were hard at work organizing the supplies and flitting around, the horses gathered and unsaddled in a designated area for them, a few bales of hay scattered about for them to feed on. Trees envelope the area leading back to the main path, and they had a breathtaking view of the land on the other side, the steep drop of a cliffside preventing anyone from sneaking up on them. They’d have to come from the front, and they would easily be spotted.

“Well, here we are!” Hosea declares with a breathless chuckle. “Home sweet home.”

(Y/N) looks around as Arthur guides the shire horses forward a few paces, bringing them to a stop on the outskirts of their new campgrounds.

“Home…” she softly repeats.

It… didn’t feel like home. It felt like any other place they set up camp, most of their supplies remaining packed away by Simon’s cooking tent, as everyone knew that they would inevitably have to be on the move again. Either in escape, or in search of more opportunities. A hollow sensation fills her chest, and she knew better than to allow herself to become attached to the view and the location itself, her features softening with a frown.

Arthur glances over his shoulder to (Y/N) as he gently plucks his hat from her hand and sets it over his head, though he hesitates when he notices her distant look— uncertainty and something akin to longing in her eyes as she slowly looks around the camp. His gaze shifts to Hosea as the older man slowly climbs down the side of the wagon, then to Charles and Javier, the two men exiting the back of the wagon as well. Once assured that no one was watching, he reaches over and gently grasps her chin, his pointer finger crooked under her chin and his thumb gently pressing to the curve of it. He guides her head to be facing him, her eyes widening and meeting his own as she blinks owlishly.

“Ain’t so bad, is it?” he questions in a low, husky voice, keeping his voice down as he offers her a faint, half-smile, his brow raising slightly.

(Y/N) swallows thickly as she gazes up into his eyes, her cheeks feeling warm and her heart rate steadily beginning to climb. Her features slowly soften as she takes in his familiar features, the sight of his reassuring smile and the tenderness in his gaze making her heart squeeze in her chest with familiar affection and fondness. Home.

“No… not at all,” she softly replies, her tone warm and laced with hidden meaning.

Arthur’s smile falters at this as his eyes flick between her own, his lips parting ever so slightly as her response seems to echo through his mind. His thumb slowly and subconsciously strokes along her chin in an instinctive, tender motion, causing her breath to softly hitch as she tries to ignore the pounding of her heart in her ears.

“You weren’t wrong, Hosea!” the boisterous voice of Dutch calls with merriment, shattering the moment.

(Y/N) and Arthur jump away from each other as if they’d been burned, Arthur’s hand retracting hastily and rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish motion as he ducks his head down and climbs down the wagon. (Y/N) clears her throat and grabs her coat, holding it close as she grabs the edge of the wagon, easily hoisting herself up and over before landing with a soft thump on the grassy terrain beneath her boots.

“This place is perfect!” Dutch continues as he approaches with open arms, gesturing around with a bright smile.

The man had ditched his thick, wool coat, now wearing a casual, ebony dress coat. He wore a golden buttoned vest that was dark charcoal with swirled, gray patterns along it, golden chains hanging from the buttons and a red gemmed accent hanging from the center along his abdomen. His pants were dark gray and his gun belt was worn securely around his hips, his familiar hat sitting on his head.

“I hope so,” Hosea replies wearily as he moves around the wagon, smiling with a hint of exhaustion.

“Gentlemen and my dear Lady, we have survived!” Dutch confidently speaks with a smirk, slowing to a stop near a wooden picnic table set up.

Uncle sits nursing a bottle of beer, Tilly wiping down the table with a rag as Abigail slowly strolls nearby, her sapphire eyes filled with relief and delight as she looks around the camp.

“For now,” Hosea answers in that same tone, approaching.

Dutch huffs at this and lifts his arm in a dismissing motion, prompting Uncle and Tilly to both vacate the table to make room as Hosea, (Y/N) and Arthur walk over.

“Now, it is time to prosper,” he declares, lowering to sit in the chair Uncle had been in and lighting a cigar.

(Y/N) sets her coat on the table and stretches her arms over her head, a soft, relieved breath leaving her as she lowers to sit in the chair adjacent from Dutch. Arthur moves closer and opts to partially sit on the table near her, the man’s eyes following Hosea.

“Arthur, (Y/N) and I were about to prosper back in Blackwater,” Hosea comments, bitterness seeping into his pointed words as he strolls around the table. “We were on to something big.” His eyes lock onto Dutch, anger simmering beneath their brown depths. “Then, Micah got you all excited about that ferry, and here we are.”

Dutch quietly scoffs at this, the man angling his body to face Hosea as his arm rests on the back of his chair. “We have all made mistakes over the years, Hosea,” he points out in a slow voice, rising. “Every last one of us.”

Hosea’s scowl falters as he shifts back a small step, seeming to shrink partially under Dutch’s stare.

“But I kept us together,” Dutch emphasizes, gesturing to himself with his cigar as smoke bleeds from the tip. “Kept us alive. Kept the nooses off our neck!” he growls out, his voice rising with each word.

(Y/N)’s eyes narrow as she slowly rises from her seat, leaving her coat behind as Arthur pushes off the table. The two exchange a quick glance before Dutch begins to stomp off, Hosea swiftly following, prompting them to do the very same.

Hosea sighs roughly, his hand shooting out and gripping Dutch’s shoulder. “I guess I’m just worried!” he exclaims, struggling to keep up with the man’s speed. “I ain’t got that long, Dutch! I— I want folks safe before I go!”

This causes Dutch to come to a stop, the man sighing deeply as his features soften. (Y/N) feels her heart tighten at the thought of Hosea not having much time left, her face falling. The weight and warmth of Arthur’s hand on her shoulder is comforting, but it doesn’t truly help the dread that stirs in her stomach.

“Me too,” Dutch agrees in a hardened voice, nodding.

“And now we are stuck,” Hosea continues, emboldened now that Dutch had stopped and seemed to be listening. “East of the Grizzlies and out of money! And a long way from our dream of virgin land in the west.” He motions towards the west desperately.

The members of the camp do their best to continue working, and despite their attempts to seem like they weren’t listening, it was obvious they were, Simon glancing over with a grimace as he hauls a heavy crate over to his tent. Some of the women look to one another with uncertainty, Susan barking at them as they stop working, and the rest of the men either hard at work setting up tents or putting away supplies. Charles cuts firewood nearby, his coat draped on the pile of wood beside him as he swings the axe down, his eyes remaining focused on his task but his jaw clenched as he listens.

“I know, my brother. But we are safe,” Dutch soothes sternly with assurance, nodding and motioning around. “We make a bit of money here, then we move again, head out around them, be west of Uncle Sam, in a few months, buy some land!” he lists off confidently, his boot lifting and propping up onto a crate at his feet.

(Y/N)’s expression tightens ever so slightly with apprehension at this plan, her mind racing with every detail that could go wrong. It seemed so… vague. Uncertain. Did Dutch truly believe things would just fall into place exactly as this ‘plan’ of his suggests? Part of her hoped it would, but she knew better than to have such fantasies.

“I hope so,” Hosea hesitantly replies, seeming doubtful himself.

Dutch doesn’t seem too thrilled by this, the man sighing with exasperation and gesturing around as he pushes himself off the crate.

“Would you just look around you?” he questions rhetorically, a tight lipped smile on his face.

He motions with his arm for the three to follow, prompting them to do so as he approaches the cliffside. The sun shines brightly in the distance as it continues to climb the sky, the sky clear and an eagle seen flying in the distance.

“This world has its consolations!” Dutch continues with a blissful sigh, taking in the view.

(Y/N) gazes out as the sunlight casts on her features, and while the view was a sight to behold, she couldn’t find it in herself to truly appreciate it. She knew it would be fleeting, this moment of calm and serenity. The thought of what was to come eats away at her despite her attempts to force it back, a soft sigh leaving her. A gentle bump to her shoulder gains her attention, her eyes flicking to Arthur, the man standing tall beside her as he looks out to the scenery in front of them with a confident glint to his eye.

A soft, weary chuckle leaves her, the woman gently and playfully elbowing his arm in response to his shoulder bump, the motion causing his smirk to widen as his eyes flick down to meet hers.

“Now! Everyone put your tools down for a moment!” Dutch calls in that voice he used every time he gave an uplifting speech, gaining their attention as he made his way towards his tent. “Come on, gather round! Quickly, now!”

(Y/N) and Arthur follow alongside Hosea after the man, the rest of the members of the camp halting their actions as they make their way over as well. Dutch sets his cigar down on a barrel near his tent, the man turning to face the crowd. Hosea stands at his side, (Y/N) and Arthur on Hosea’s other side, as it always had been. The four of them the pillars of their group.

“I know that things have been tough… but we are safe now,” he starts in a reassuring, confident tone, his eyes scanning through the group slowly with purpose. “But we are far too poor. So it is time for everyone to get to work.”

“Get to work, but stay out of trouble,” Hosea chimes in sternly, nodding as he lifts a finger for emphasis. “Remember, we are itinerant workers—”

“Laid off when they shut down our factory to the north,” Dutch finishes for him. “Now, get out there, and see what you can find!” He turns his gaze to Uncle and Orville. “Uncle, Reverend Swanson, no more passengers!”

This earns a collective laugh of delight and joy from the others, Uncle appearing indignant and Orville sheepish as he looks downward with a soft huff. (Y/N) shakes her head with mild amusement, her arms folding over her chest as she leans back against Dutch’s tent post.

“It is time for everyone… to earn their keep!” Dutch continues firmly.

(Y/N)’s eyes snap up at this, the words sounding oddly familiar. Her brow furrows as she sorts through her memories, the faint sound of Micah’s words of people needing to earn their keep as he does flickering through her mind. She looks to Dutch with apprehension, though she chalks it up as coincidence— and she certainly wouldn't mind if others safely did what they could to collect funds for the gang. She surely wasn’t expecting Mary-Beth or Mrs. Adler to mount up and rob a stagecoach, but small jobs would suffice.

“There’s a town a little way down the track name of Valentine,” Hosea speaks up, pointing in the direction with a nod. “Livestock town. All mud and morons if I remember right. That seems a decent place to start.”

Simon steps forward tentatively, raising his hand. “Uh…” He waits for a nod from Dutch before continuing. “We need food. Real food. That means every day, one of you…” he trails off meaningfully, motioning around.

Dutch steps into his tent for a moment, the tent lined with wooden pallets to keep his belongings elevated off the ground. A cot resided to the side, nightstands and possessions scattered about his space. He hoists up a lockbox, the man stepping out.

“And remember! Whatever it is that you find,” he starts, stepping closer to the barrel his cigar resides on. He slams the lockbox down for emphasis, opening the lid and motioning inside the empty box. “The camp gets its slice!” He slams the lid shut, snatching up his cigar as his features soften. “Now, be sensible out there,” he dismisses, his tone somewhat fond.

The others seem noticeably more uplifted by Dutch’s speech as they scatter about, returning to their tasks as the chattering of indistinct conversations could be heard. Susan briskly approaches Arthur and (Y/N), Hosea sighing wearily as he begins to unbutton his winter coat.

“Now, the girls have your tents ready, Mr. Morgan, Miss (L/N),” Susan speaks with a respectful fondness seeming to be reserved for very few, gesturing with her hand for them to follow. “Come with me.” She pauses, turning to Dutch and Hosea. “You two will be ready shortly,” she assures gently, most of Dutch’s belongings still scattered about.

Susan turns and walks in quick, efficient strides through the camp, (Y/N) and Arthur hastily following to keep up with the woman.

“We put you two over here.” Susan motions ahead.

Arthur’s eyes flick ahead, and an odd sense of disappointment flares in his chest at the sight of two setups. He was a little alarmed at the strange sensation, recognizing he only felt it due to the last few nights of holding (Y/N) while they rested. It was the most peaceful he’d felt in a long time, and now… there was no reason to keep sharing the same bed. Certainly not his small cot.

“I’m sure everything will be fine, Miss Grimshaw,” Arthur drawls as they follow, feeling a hint of amusement that she was fussing over them.

“It should be— most of your belongings from Blackwater got saved,” she replies as she winds around the tent, motioning ahead.

He looks over his setup, his wagon acting as a wall and his cot pushed against it with a cover overhead to block rain out. A few crates resided near his cot with his belongings still packed, a chest at the foot of his cot. Beside this area was (Y/N)’s familiar tent, the tent flap rolled up and a bed visible on the inside. Only a few small crates were stacked inside, as she had learned young to travel light.

“Most of them,” (Y/N) agrees, a hint of what seems to be disappointment evident in her own voice as she looks over the two setups slowly.

Arthur’s eyes flick to her, and he can’t help but wonder if she was thinking the same thing. But he forces any hopeful thoughts from his mind, not wanting to dwell on his feelings at the moment as he gruffly clears his throat.

“Everythin’ apart from our money,” he points out with an annoyed sigh, shaking his head.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Susan gripes back with a frown, her hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair back that had slipped from her neat, proper hairdo.

(Y/N) feels a surge of something akin to anger at the mention of her money, as well as frustration, as she and the man had been saving up for a long while before all went to hell. Together, they gathered well over a couple thousand dollars, the two having agreed at a young age to pool their earnings to have as backup in case things ever got dire. Well, things are now dire, and their money was no doubt seized in Blackwater by the Pinkertons, along with whatever few supplies of theirs was left behind.

“We’ll save up again. Always ways of makin’ money,” (Y/N) reassures with a nod, managing a smile that is more confident than she feels.

“That’s the spirit,” Susan praises with a proud smile, nodding her head.

Arthur nods as well with a softened grin on his face, the man sighing softly as he approaches his cot. He lowers slowly and sits down on it, rolling his shoulders with a deep breath as he feels some tension leaving his frame.

“Thank you for doin’ this,” (Y/N) says with gratitude to the older woman, not noticing her gaze shifting past her and her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Is there anything I can—”

“Miss Jackson!” Susan’s icy voice cuts through the air like a knife, (Y/N) instinctively tensing and standing taller, as if she were being scolded. “I’ve seen shit with more common sense than you! Do it properly!”

(Y/N) hastily side-steps out of the path of the furious, older woman as she stomps towards Tilly, who shrinks back under her gaze with a grimace. Blinking owlishly, (Y/N) slowly turns to look at Arthur, her eyes wide and her expression baffled at how quickly Susan could turn from almost motherly to a woman out for blood.

Arthur snorts under his breath as he shakes his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he gazes back at her with amusement.

(Y/N) exhales a faint chuckle, her eyes flicking over to her tent. “I’d better go unpack,” she comments while motioning to her tent, smiling faintly as she turns, heading towards her tent in a relaxed manner.

Arthur’s eyes follow her as she walks away, the man hesitating as he opens his mouth to call out to her. He manages to catch himself— the man blinking rapidly. What exactly did he plan on saying just now? That he wanted her to stay longer? That he didn’t like the distance between them, even though she was only a mere five feet away?

His cheeks flush with color as he sighs roughly, his hand reaching up and rubbing along the back of his neck. Catching the motion, he jerks his hand down with an irritable scowl, his eyes flicking up as (Y/N) stretches up. His mouth becomes oddly dry as his eyes slowly roam down her figure, lingering on the curves of her waist and her— what was he doing? He shouldn’t be looking at her like this. But he can’t find it in himself to stop, the woman reaching upward as she undoes the latch of her tent, her backside to him.

He only manages to tear his eyes away once she is inside, the flap of the tent fluttering behind her as she disappears inside, his blood racing through him and his heart pounding in his chest. A low, frustrated groan leaves Arthur as he slowly lies back onto his cot, his coat suddenly feeling much too hot and constricting around his form. His hat shifts off his head from the movement of laying down, his hands running through his hair and covering his face as he tries to will the heat from his cheeks and the thoughts of her body from his mind. He needed a cold bath.

Chapter Text

A couple of weeks later…

-

The sun shines brightly above in the blue sky, a few clouds that resemble the brushstrokes of a paintbrush floating silently and lazily overhead. The warm glow of the sun casts down on the land as morning arrives, birds softly tweeting as the land begins to stir with life.

We got off the mountain… and rode east into some… pretty enough country called the Heartlands. Ain’t been this far east in many a year. 

The camp was already bustling with folks who always woke with the rising sun, some, like Bill and Uncle, still snoozing the day away and completely ignoring the sound of those doing early morning chores around them, despite the fact it was no doubt past 9 at this point. 

(Y/N) and I have been scouting out the land around camp a bit in recent weeks. She’s been enjoying the vast flowers and seeing the animals that roam the green plains here. 

The horses of the camp are kept well fed, a few munching on the bales of hay that had been freshly delivered to them that morning. Arthur’s horse stands with his saddle ready, (Y/N) having already brushed and saddled him up in anticipation for the day.

I can tell she’s been missing her horse, (H/N), dearly, as I miss Boadicea. I’ve seen her tending the other’s horses more often, and she’s always eager to ride out with me. Not that I’m complaining. Figure today is as good as any for us to finally see the town nearby, Valentine. Might cheer her up a bit more.

Arthur sits at his cot as he writes in his journal, a drawing of (Y/N) sitting in a field surrounded by flowers drawn on the left hand side, his current horse visible in the back grazing on some grass. On his table, a worn, black and white photo of his mother sat in a frame, another photograph of Arthur with Dutch, Hosea and (Y/N) pinned to the wagon beside his cot, including a photo of his old dog and his father wearing the hat he wore now.

She doesn’t seem as worried as she was before… it’s nice to see her smiling again. Really smiling. Not just one to assure myself or others that things’ll be okay.

He shifts as he leans his back against the wagon beside his cot comfortably, his boot propping up against a crate peeking out from under his cot. He was wearing a faded, royal blue striped collared shirt with the top few buttons undone, his black bandana tied around his neck draping the front of his opened collar. Black suspenders were attached to his gun belt that looped over his shoulders, his buckle freshly shined, as well as his boots— though they still seemed worn from age and use. 

Dutch seems a little better, too. His eyes are sparkling once more, and… I can see he’s thinking a little clearer. I think we all feel a little happier, spite of Blackwater and that whole mess.

Arthur’s beard had grown in quite a bit, his hair reaching just below his ears and a bit untamed as well. The man’s hat loyally sat on the cot beside him, his features softer and more at ease and rested. As he finishes writing, the man shifts his focus onto the drawing, and he guides his pencil to do a few more short, quick strokes of detailing in (Y/N)’s clothing, his expression focused yet tender. 

The sound of boots softly crunching on grass as they approach causes the man to look upward to who was approaching as he instinctively snaps his journal shut, the man glancing downward as he begins to tuck it away into his satchel. However, he quickly looks back to the figure, his features and posture softening at the sight of (Y/N) approaching. She was noticeably in a better mood from the warmer weather, and she didn’t seem as exhausted and disheartened as she had been a few weeks prior.

She wore a beige collared shirt with the buttons all done up except the first, her (F/C) bandana tied around her neck loosely as usual. Her long sleeves were rolled up and neatly buttoned at her elbows, her shirt breathable for the warm weather. She wore faded black pants made of a sturdy material for riding horseback, her gun belt keeping her pants secure, as the size was a smidge too large, considering most places didn’t have pants tailored specifically for women. She wore her usual pair of spurred boots, which were well maintained and fairly new, considering she got them in Blackwater before the mess.

(Y/N) was also carrying scissors in her hand and a bowl of water in the other, the man’s expression falling to a deadpan at the sight as his brow silently lifts. 

“What’s that for?” Arthur questions bluntly in a monotone once she was close enough, the man tucking his journal away and nodding towards the kit in her hands.

(Y/N) comes to a stop near the man’s small, wooden table beside his cot, and she carefully sets down the scissors and small bowl of water near the framed photograph of his mother. She glances at him with a raised brow herself, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips.

“What do you think?” (Y/N) questions back rhetorically, motioning with her hand to his beard.

Arthur’s hand lifts to his jaw when she motions to it, which was currently hidden underneath a thick, slightly curled beard. He exhales deeply through his nose as he runs his fingers along his jaw, feeling the length and thickness of his beard thoughtfully. He hadn’t realized it had gotten so long. He’d been so distracted lately with everyone getting settled at their new, temporary camp, and with the strange way his heart’s been racing every time (Y/N)’s even mentioned by someone, that he hadn’t been keeping up with it.

(Y/N) tilts her head as she observes him processing his beard length, her smile softening. “C’mon. You haven’t shaved since before the Blackwater mess. I’ll give you a present if you let me trim your beard,” she offers playfully, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You know I won’t mess it up, either. Been doin’ it for you for decades.”

A soft, amused snort leaves Arthur at this, the man’s lips tugging into a faint smirk as he looks up at her with raised brows. 

“A present , huh, darlin’?” he drawls with a hint of sarcasm, staring up at her for a moment before sighing heavily with mock defeat. “Alright, fine. Not too short, though.”

(Y/N)’s face lights up with victory and delight, the woman beaming as she grabs hold of the scissors. “I know, I know,” she fondly replies.

As she moves closer, (Y/N) feels her chest tighten with an emotion that she can’t quite place— or rather, that she chose not to—, and she has to manually keep her breathing steady and normal. Arthur straightens up as he scoots himself closer to the edge of his cot, the man’s legs parting for her to stand between as she usually did when shaving him. (Y/N) does just that and steps between his legs, Arthur’s breath softly catching at her proximity as he gazes up at her, unable to tear his eyes off her face for even a moment.

(Y/N) reaches into the bowl of water and gathers some in her palm, the woman bringing her hand to Arthur’s jaw and running her fingers through his beard to dampen it. The man’s throat bobs as he swallows, his jaw clenching slightly beneath her touch as his eyes flick to the camp past her, as if to distract himself from leaning into her touch. Threading her fingers through his beard with practiced ease, she brings the scissors to the strands and snips at the curled hair of his beard.

-

The minutes tick by, filled with occasional conversation between the two, their voices lowered and almost intimate as (Y/N) works on trimming the man’s beard. A small pile of discarded hair resided on the grass near her feet, which would no doubt eventually be blown away and lost in the wind. 

(Y/N) clicks the scissors together along a patch of his beard with a final snip, Arthur’s frame shifting a bit on the cot as his hands flex restlessly. He exhales softly with a mixture of relief and disappointment when she steps away for a moment to put the scissors down, but she soon returns, the man stiffening and straightening up as her hands reach out to cup his jaw on either side.

Her brow is furrowed and her eyes are focused as she looks along his beard, her hands tilting his head side to side slowly and gently as she searches for any unevenness or stragglers. She’d trimmed his beard to be short, but not overly so, knowing the man preferred to not be clean shaven typically. 

“Think I did a good job,” she comments softly as she nods to herself, her eyes flicking and meeting his own as she offers him a small smile. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” she teases him gently, her thumb absently caressing the scar along his chin.

Arthur feels his face heating up at the sweet gesture, and he’s glad he can blame the faint sunburn on his cheeks for it. 

“Guess not,” he comments back with a rough chuckle lacing his words, the man peering up at her with softened eyes as the corner of his lips tug up into a half-grin.

(Y/N) smiles brightly at this, her hands lingering meaningfully before slowly retracting. Arthur’s hand lifts and wraps around her right wrist in a gentle hold, surprising her. 

“Thank you, darlin’,” Arthur softly speaks, his words full of gratitude.

His hand adjusts to be grasping her fingers rather than her wrist, and he brings her knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. (Y/N)’s mind goes blank as his lips make contact with her skin, a shiver traveling through her frame as her face heats up with warmth. She blinks owlishly as she stares at him, her heart rate accelerating as she let out an uncharacteristic, sheepish laugh.

“It was nothing, really,” she assures, smiling as Arthur pulls his lips away slowly. “But… you’re welcome.”

She finds herself missing the warmth of his touch as he releases her hand, her hand slowly lowering back to her side. She forces herself to take a small step back, knowing she should make space between the two of them. She had to get a hold of herself. Now wasn’t the time for her feelings to overwhelm her, not with how high tensions still were despite the weeks that have passed since Blackwater.

“Oh—” (Y/N) perks up, recalling her promise as her hand reaches into her bag. “Now! I promised you a gift,” she declares cheerfully, trying to shift her focus onto their normal banter and relationship rather than the confusing feelings and thoughts overwhelming her. 

Arthur chuckles softly with a faint smirk as he grabs his hat, lifting it and placing it on its rightful spot on his head. He leans forward with interest as she digs through her satchel, his forearms resting on his knees as he gazes up at her. 

“There it is,” she softly says to herself, her fingers curling around the cool metal of the pocket watch. 

She carefully pulls it from her satchel, the long, sturdy chain dragging before finally slipping out of her bag. It hangs down just past her waist, and (Y/N) holds the pocket watch out to Arthur with an eager smile. 

“Found it on the train,” she explains with barely contained excitement for his reaction. “Forgot to give it to you. Figured now was good as time as any.”

Arthur’s features soften with surprise as he sits up a bit, the man reaching out to gently take the pocket watch. His fingers purposefully brush along her palm before curling around the watch, the man bringing it to his lap as he looks over the porcelain face of it, the time corrected and the second hand ticking faintly.

“I know you lost yours in Blackwater, so I thought you’d like it,” (Y/N) adds, her hands clasping behind her back as she watches the man’s reaction.

Arthur turns the watch over as his eyes flick along the detailing in the platinum pocket watch, designed carved into it and seeming to be dusted in gold to make them stand out. The chain was sturdy and long in length, and the watch itself was a decent weight, and was no doubt with a small fortune. 

(Y/N) remains quiet as she watches him take in the watch, and she straightens up as he looks up at her. A smile graces his lips as he clasps the pocket watch in his palm, the man slowly rising to stand before her. 

“Shouldn’t have. You could’a sold it for some money for yourself,” he quietly and humbly murmurs, tucking the pocket watch away carefully into his satchel. “But I appreciate it. Thank you.”

His hand lifts and sets on the top of her head as he gently and affectionately rubs her hair, (Y/N)’s eyes shutting briefly at the contact before flicking open once more as she smiles up at him. Arthur mirrors this, the sound of a cheerful, whistling tune steadily becoming louder gaining their attention.

Arthur removes his hand from (Y/N)’s head, the two turning their attention to Hosea, the man approaching while whistling as he holds two cups of fresh coffee, the liquid steaming a bit and the strong scent wafting into the air. 

“Hosea,” (Y/N) greets fondly, Hosea’s obvious good mood apparent. 

“Hello, my dear girl,” Hosea happily greets back, the man nodding to Arthur. “My boy,” he adds fondly. 

Hosea offers the cups of coffee to the two, to which they both take with smiles of gratitude. The older man grins as he pats Arthur’s shoulder fondly, a soft chuckle leaving him. Arthur brings the cup to his lips as he takes a slow sip, savoring the warm liquid. (Y/N) does the same, the scent of the fresh coffee filling her with a sense of warmth and familiarity. 

“I see you’ve finally trimmed that bush of a beard Arthur was growing,” Hosea comments with fond amusement, earning a snort from (Y/N) and a blank, half-hearted glare from Arthur.

“Yes, sir! Had to bribe him,” she plays along with a nod, causing Arthur to roll his eyes lightly as he hides a smirk behind his mug.

Hosea chuckles at this as his eyes crinkle, his features noticeably less pale and sickly. His cheeks finally had some color to them and his bags didn’t seem as bad, his posture straighter as well.

“Quite a day!” the older man declares enthusiastically as he steps forward while gazing to the sky, his arms lifting and outstretching on either side of him as he savors the warmth of the sun on his face.

“Let’s hope so,” Arthur replies before taking another sip of his coffee, exhaling deeply as the warmth of the liquid travels to his chest. 

Hosea lowers his arms with a deep sigh, the man’s eyes scanning along the camp slowly. “There’s, uh… bunch of the boys already in Valentine,” he starts, his hand reaching up as he scratches at his brow. “Bill, Charles, and Javier.”

(Y/N) tilts her head at the information, slowly nodding her head as she takes a few sips of the coffee. It’s strong and the warmth was pleasant, helping to wake her up.

“Was thinkin’ (Y/N) and I should go out there ourselves, actually,” Arthur replies, yawning softly and rubbing at his stubble. He glances down at his mug, and he downs the remaining few gulps quickly, not minding the heat of the liquid.

“That might be best. You know how rambunctious our boys can get when they drink,” Hosea jokes lightly, smiling.

“Oh, yes. Arthur here in particular,” (Y/N) comments with dry amusement, side-eyeing the man before taking a slow sip of the remaining coffee in her cup, savoring the flavor.

Hosea chuckles as Arthur lets out a soft snort, shaking his head with amusement. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he innocently replies. 

“Of course you don’t, you never remember !” Hosea chides jokingly, nudging his elbow into Arthur’s arm with a hearty laugh.

(Y/N) covers her mouth as she laughs, Arthur trying to feign annoyance but failing miserably as his lips quirk up in an impish grin. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” (Y/N) agrees, laughter lacing her words. 

Hosea holds his hands out to the two, prompting them both to pass over their empty coffee mugs with looks of gratitude.

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur dismisses, fondness evident in his tone as he watches Hosea starting towards Dutch’s tent. “And what’re you gonna get up to?”

“I’ve got some… things to take care of,” Hosea declares cryptically and enthusiastically with a nod, continuing on his way with that small spring to his step. 

(Y/N) smiles with fondness as she watches the man head off, the woman relieved that he was in much better health— physically and mentally. Hosea slows just as Dutch emerges from the tent, the two staring at one another for a brief moment before Hosea steps closer.

“How you doin’?” Hosea questions lightly, their voices able to be heard due to the fact Dutch’s tent was only maybe 15 feet or so away.

(Y/N) tilts her head as she watches the two, feeling a strange sense of unease and hope all at once. Part of her wants to go over and make sure the two won’t end up in another bickering match, but she remains put, noticing Arthur was now watching the men as well as he slowly drapes his satchel over his middle.

Dutch’s features soften, the man standing tall as his arms cross over his chest. “Good, brother. How are you feeling?”

Hosea shrugs a shoulder, holding the two empty mugs. “Much better.” He chuckles faintly. “Thought those mountains were going to kill me. Seems I’ll live a while yet,” he jokes.

Dutch’s lips quirk into a smile. “Oh, I know.”

Hosea slowly shifts to stand beside the man, their posture noticeably softening in each other’s presences. 

“Found some things in town,” Hosea comments in a conversational manner, as he’d been in town the last few days gathering information and more. “Made us some money.”

“You always do,” Dutch praises, his hands lifting to rest on his gun belt.

Hosea lets out a raspy, fond laugh, looking at Dutch with a grin. “Yes, I’m good at that.”

Dutch smiles warmly at this, his features slowly softening into an apologetic one. “I…” He stifles a soft sigh, his eyes averting downward as he shifts to be facing Hosea. “I messed up in Blackwater,” he admits, his voice rough and surprisingly vulnerable. “I made a goddamn fool out of myself.”

(Y/N) and Arthur both exchange a look at this, (Y/N)’s brows raised with pleasant surprise at his admission. She shifts to be standing near Arthur’s table as she pretends to busy herself by organising his belongings, Arthur seeming to be focused on his satchel, neither wanting to be noticed eavesdropping.

Hosea stares at Dutch with a hint of surprise, but that familiar, brotherly warmth reserved for Dutch enters his gaze, the man smiling. He steps closer, patting Dutch’s shoulder. “You done that before,” he lightly remarks with a playful wink.

This earns a soft wheeze of laughter from Dutch, Hosea letting out a breathy laugh as well.

“I know,” Dutch acknowledges, sighing with amusement.

Hosea glances back at (Y/N) and Arthur, his smile growing and a knowing look in his eyes. “You two listening in,” he calls, making the two straighten up, (Y/N) smiling sheepishly as Arthur rubs the back of his neck. “Tell him. Tell him we’re okay now.”

(Y/N) blinks at the request, but she doesn’t hesitate to oblige. “Oh— of course! We’re fine now, Dutch,” she assures cheerfully.

Arthur nods in agreement, adjusting the brim of his hat. “We’re fine. Hosea’s right, we’re just getting back on our feet.”

Hosea nods with approval as he turns his attention back to Dutch, Dutch looking between (Y/N) and Arthur with warmth and gratitude before shifting his eyes to Hosea.

“You’ll get us out of this,” Hosea confidently says.

Dutch’s brow lifts, his confidence seeming to return as he smirks. “We are out of this,” he states. “We just need to keep out of it.”

Hosea only fondly smiles. “So what do you think?”

Dutch looks down for a brief moment. “We need to make some money and find ourselves an escape route. Same as usual.” He returns his eyes to Hosea, nodding confidently. “But we are making money,” he points out, referring to Leopold’s ‘business’ and the donations some of the others have made in the last few days. “And we will find an escape. We are gonna be okay.”

(Y/N)’s eyes flick to Hosea as she watches for his reaction, her lips slightly pursed into a curious look.

“I agree,” Hosea chirps without hesitation, surprising her. “We’ll get some big money and… get lost!”

He smiles brightly as he turns, sighing deeply with content as he begins to stroll away, his good mood not diminished whatsoever despite the fact a few weeks ago he’d been butting heads with Dutch over the same exact plan. (Y/N) can’t help but stare in surprise at Hosea as he walks off, Dutch letting out a delighted, relieved chuckle as he watches the man as well. With a nod, Dutch turns and walks back into his tent, Molly sitting on the bed as she applies her makeup for the day.

“I’m… glad the two of them are gettin’ along now,” (Y/N) softly comments, causing Arthur to glance at her from the corner of his eye for a moment. 

“Yeah,” he agrees warmly, his hands lowering to rest on his gun belt as he exhales deeply. “Tensions and stress were just high before. Those two were always gonna work it out.”

(Y/N) slowly nods at this, a weight being lifted from her chest. “Yeah,” she parrots softly, shifting to face Arthur with a small smile. “So, we heading into town?”

Arthur nods twice in quick succession, jerking his chin towards the horses. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s see what this Valentine’s about,” he urges with a faint smile.

The two start their way over to the horses, the camp alive with their fellow members. Mary-Beth and Tilly sat on their knees side by side as they scrubbed at clothing in a wash bin, Karen working on hanging the wet, clean clothing nearby. Abigail sat and worked on stitching one of Jack’s shirts, the little boy sitting on the ground before her while tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick. 

Molly resided in Dutch’s tent as usual away from the others, seeming lost in her own thoughts as she gazed out towards the horizon. Dutch stands confidently and tall with a cigar between his fingers, his eyes constantly scanning along the perimeter for any sign of trouble. Pearson was currently working on skinning a couple of rabbits brought, and they’d no doubt be used in the stew for the next day.

The other members were keeping to themselves focused on camp chores, Hosea staring intently at a Newspaper he’d acquired from town, his eyes focused on a few listings for horses and other animals for sale. 

(Y/N) notices movement to her left, her eyes instinctively drawn to it. She slows her steps as she notices Sadie, the woman walking in quick, purposeful strides as she carries a fresh bowl of stew. The woman wore a buttoned, puffy sleeved white collared shirt and a deep, navy blue long skirt, a lovely beige hat on her head. Her hair, once tangled and matted, was now neatly brushed and braided back out of her face and tied with a blue ribbon, no doubt thanks to one of the other girls.

Her eyes follow Sadie’s path leading directly to where Kieran, the O’Driscoll boy, was tied up standing uncomfortably against a bent tree, the man visibly thinner and paler than he had been when they first encountered him in the mountains. 

“What is it?” Arthur questions lowly and gently as he notices (Y/N) had stopped, glancing back before noticing where her attention lied.

Neither could quite hear the two from their distance, but from the way Sadie was seemingly taunting the man with her bowl of stew gave them both well enough an idea of what she was doing. Kieran’s eyes follow her food like a hawk, (Y/N) blinking rapidly as Sadie suddenly dumps her bowl of stew at Kieran’s feet. She then drops the bowl, her expression cold as she kicks dirt onto the food.

With that, Sadie spins on her heel, briskly walking away from Kieran. Arthur lets out a soft chortle under his breath as his eyes follow the woman, (Y/N)’s gaze lingering on Kieran. She watches as the man tries to toe some of the dirt-covered stew closer like a desperate, starved animal, the smallest twinge of sympathy filling her as she watches him realize it was pointless. Even if he did manage to bring it closer, how would he even manage to bring it to his lips to eat?

“I wish there was… somethin’ that could be done to help Mrs. Adler’s pain,” (Y/N) quietly comments, knowing that there was no such thing for grief— except for time, and the comfort of others around that person. But Sadie was surrounded by strangers— outlaws, no less— so she couldn’t blame the woman for not finding that comfort in them.

Arthur sighs deeply as his amusement fades, the man nodding slowly. “We’ve done all we can do, helpin’ her and lettin’ her stay,” he comments quietly. “Rest is up to her.”

(Y/N) takes in his words as her eyes flick around for Sadie, and she knows the woman has no doubt returned to that small corner of camp she had been retreating to lately to be away from the others.

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees, sighing softly through her nose. 

Arthur’s hand lifts and rests on (Y/N)’s shoulder, the man giving it a gentle squeeze before he allows it to fall. He turns to the horses and halts in his tracks, his expression souring instantly as he notices a figure slouched against the wagon, snoring obnoxiously loud. 

Uncle slept like a lazy cat in the sun, his hands resting on his large, round belly and his hat covering his face to prevent his cheeks from catching a sunburn. Arthur’s eye twitches at the sight, (Y/N) glancing to Arthur as she notices the man starting to stomp towards the wagon with clear intent. Her eyes land on Uncle as she follows, knowing full well Arthur’s intentions of waking him.

As predicted, Arthur comes to a stop before Uncle, his arms folding over his chest.

“Hey!” Arthur sharply barks, his voice like thunder.

Uncle wakes with a dramatic scream, his arms flailing with alarm and his body jolting upward in a panic, his hat falling from his head.

“Careful not to work yourself to death there, Uncle,” Arthur drawls, sarcasm dripping from each word as he glowers down at the old man with annoyance.

Uncle sniffles as he snatches his hat up, plopping it on his head as he rises. “I— I was thinkin’!” he defends as he stumbles from being disorientated, correcting his footing.

“Oh, oh, of course you were,” (Y/N) chimes in, leaning her arm against the wagon as she looks at Uncle with a raised brow. “Was the snorin’ and droolin’ helping you to form that singular thought, or is that just a side-effect from actually using your brain for once?” she questions rhetorically, earning a snort from Arthur. “You know what Dutch said. No more passengers. Were you actually thinking of something that would help us make money?”

Uncle grumbles softly under his breath, and he has the decency to at least look sheepish. “Yes. I mean… it will . Eventually.”

Arthur’s eye twitches at this, and he reaches out, roughly patting Uncle’s shoulder and forcing him to walk slowly along the side of the wagon. “So, while the rest of us are busy… stealin’, killin’, lying… fighting to try to survive…” He comes to a stop, prompting Uncle to do the same. “You get to think all day.”

(Y/N) hums lowly in a monotone of agreement, her brow lifting as she eyes Uncle, moving to stand on his other side.

Uncle nervously smiles under their scrutiny. “You know, it’s… a strange world we live in!” he sheepishly speaks.

“Cruel world, more like,” (Y/N) states back bluntly, shaking her head. “How about you come into town with us, hmm? Might find somethin’ interesting to do. Somethin’ that’s actually useful to the gang,” she pointedly adds towards the end of her sentence.

Uncle perks up, nodding. “Sure! I got some errands to run.”

Arthur sighs softly, his eyes lightly rolling as he looks to the side with a hint of mild annoyance. “Great,” he grumbles softly, motioning to the wagon. “Go check the horses are ready,” he tells Uncle, his tone brooking no room for argument.

Uncle seems like he wants to complain for a moment, but a stern glare from Arthur causes him to swallow his words. He stifles a sigh of exasperation as he turns, heading around the wagon to secure the horses. 

(Y/N) chuckles softly as she shakes her head, the woman turning her attention to the wheel of the wagon as she inspects it, wanting to make sure it was secured before they headed out.

“Psst! (Y/N),” a hushed voice calls, making the woman pause and glance over her shoulder with a raised brow.

Arthur’s attention was also averted to the voice, Karen, Mary-beth and Tilly watching the two eagerly, Mary-beth absently and half-heartedly washing a shirt in the tub. Karen, the one who had called them, emerges from around their work area, her eyes shifting around warily, and both (Y/N) and Arthur knew she was searching for Susan no doubt.

“If you’re gonna take the old man into town, could you take us, too?” Karen questions eagerly and sweetly, giving them a convincing smile as her hand rests on her hip comfortably. 

(Y/N) blinks at the question as she tilts her head, her lips pursing into a thoughtful frown. She knew the girls often became restless in camp with their chores and Susan constantly over their shoulders, and they enjoyed the short amount of time they’d spent outside of camp.

“I suppose,” (Y/N) replies with a small shrug, glancing to Arthur briefly. “What’re y’all gonna get up to?” she questions curiously.

“Dunno yet,” Karen replies, her expression brightened at her agreement as she hastily waves Mary-beth and Tilly to follow her over. “But we’ll find somethin’ for y’all to do. We always do.”

Mary-beth drops the shirt she’d been washing into the bin of water as she and Tilly follow Karen, their eyes darting around warily for Susan as they make their way over.

“We’re bored out of our minds,” Mary-beth complains, shaking her dampened hands out. “Been cooped up here for two weeks now! Karen’s about ready to murder Grimshaw,” she jokes, causing Karen to only nod with an expression that indicated she was fully ready to do so.

“No murdering Miss Grimshaw,” (Y/N) says with a playful sternness, pointing her finger in a firm manner at Karen, who only innocently flutters her lashes in response as Tilly and Mary-beth chuckle.

Arthur chuckles lightly, the man shifting his weight. “Are you sure Miss Grimshaw can spare you?” he questions innocently enough, though by Karen, Mary-beth, and Tilly’s reaction, you’d think he’d asked to kick a puppy.

Mary-beth lets out a scoff as she lifts her hands with exasperation while frowning, Tilly’s face falling and her brow lifting. Karen gives Arthur a disgusted stare, (Y/N) quietly chuckling as her hand lifts, her thumb scratching at her brow. 

“ Are you sure Miss Grimshaw can spare you ?” Karen mocks in a deeper voice, rolling her eyes and setting her hands on her hips. “What’s happened to you, Arthur?” she questions with exasperated annoyance. “Three young healthy women want you to take ‘em robbing,” she starts, gesturing to Tilly and Mary-beth, the women swaying side to side in a convincing manner, “and you’re worried about house chores !” She grins, her hands waving encouragingly. “Let’s go!”

Arthur blinks owlishly as he looks to (Y/N), who chuckles while lifting her hands in mock surrender as she takes a small step back.

“I’m stayin’ out of this,” she says with amusement, her hands lowering to her belt. “But I don’t see a problem in them comin’.” Her eyes shift to the three. “As long as y’all know that Miss Grimshaw might be less than pleased when she finds out you’re missing.”

“When is she ever not ‘less than pleased’?” Karen rhetorically questions.

Arthur exhales a soft laugh as he shakes his head, nodding to the wagon. “Fair enough. Come on, then.”

Tilly and Mary-beth let out giddy cheers, Karen beaming with relief and delight as she turns to the two. The three share an excited commotion for a brief moment before rushing to the back of the wagon, (Y/N) smiling fondly at the sight of the three, their joy infectious.

(Y/N) approaches the back of the wagon, her hand offered as she leans against the wheel. Karen takes it and steps up first, the woman lifting her skirt as she does so, as to not get it caught in any splinters of the wagon.

“I can’t believe we’re going to see civilization!” Tilly giddily speaks, smiling brightly as Arthur makes his way around the wagon to the driver side. “Feels like weeks since we did!”

Mary-beth accepts (Y/N)’s hand as well, using it to help her up before she settles into a spot beside Karen. Tilly does the same, (Y/N) remaining steady as she helps her up as well. The three women laugh with excitement and delight as they settle in, smiles adorning their features. 

“Yeah, Valentine! The very embodiment of civilization,” Uncle chimes in as he climbs into the passenger side, the man’s smile faltering as he notices Arthur’s stare on him.

Arthur wordlessly raises a brow as he continues to stare at the old man, unblinking and his expression set to a firm one. Uncle sighs deeply and dramatically, the man turning and slowly making his way off the wagon. (Y/N) glances to her side as she notices movement, Uncle shuffling his way past her with grumbles as he approaches the back. 

“(Y/N),” Arthur calls from the driver seat, making her eyes flick to him as he nods to the seat beside him. 

(Y/N)’s lips curl upward in a smile, a soft chuckle leaving her as she approaches the passenger side, climbing up. (Y/N) settles beside him, Uncle groaning and complaining under his breath about ‘being too old to sit in the back’ as he climbs up into the wagon. He settles into a spot on Arthur’s side in front of the three women, the man sighing deeply as his expression perks up once more.

“You ladies are gonna love it,” he tells them with a nod and a smile, their excitement obvious. 

Arthur’s hands grasp the reins of the horses, the man glancing back briefly to make sure the group was settled. “Okay, then! Let’s go,” he gruffly says, shifting his weight to get comfortable before flicking the reins gently. 

Uncle rests his arm on the back of the wagon, his frame angled to partially face Arthur’s. “Alright, out through the trees here, then take a left,” he instructs. 

Arthur follows the man’s instructions as he guides the horses through the thick brush, the horses moving at a steady canter as they pull the wagon. As he pulls the wagon onto the main dirt road, he makes a left, the horses nickering and snorting softly as they trot.

“Ladies! Sing us a song!” Uncle encourages the three with a chuckle. 

(Y/N) shakes her head with fond amusement as she glances along the trail, admiring the scenery. Mary-beth, Tilly and Karen let out amused and delighted laughs as they look to one another, Karen thinking for a moment before perking up.

“ I got a girl in Berryville —” she starts with an encouraging nod, prompting Mary-beth and Tilly to join in, Mary-beth’s laughter lacing her singing. “ Can’t be screwed ‘cause she’s too damn ill !”

(Y/N) shakes her head once more and snorts softly, exchanging an amused glance with Arthur as the man smiles. His eyes return to the road as he guides the horses along the path, keeping them steady to not jostle those in the back, the women continuing the song.

“— there’s a blue horse lays outside her door ! I got a girl in Valentine, like to drink that fancy wine —”

“Go right here,” Uncle encourages as the women continue singing, the man motioning to the right at a fork in the road. “It’s quicker.”

“— the crack in her pants paid for it all ! I got a girl in Berryville, can’t get it in ‘cause she won’t stay still, she kicks and squeals and farts and hollers —”

(Y/N) can’t help but softly chortle under her breath at the vulgar lyrics, Arthur’s eyes scanning along the area around them habitually for any sign of danger. His posture slowly softens as he looks ahead once more, the horses continuing their canter along the trail as the three sing. 

“ I got a girl in Berryville —”

“ I got a girl across the lane —”

“Oh! I messed it up!” Karen complains dramatically with a laugh.

Tilly lets out a giggle while covering her mouth, Mary-beth reaching over and patting Karen’s leg as she laughs and straightens up. (Y/N) chuckles softly as she listens to the three, a lightness in her chest that feels almost overwhelming compared to the unending worrying and dread she’d felt just a few weeks ago in Colter. 

“ I got a girl across the lane ,” the three start up again, slips of laughter and giggles leaving them still. “ Hair down there like a horses mane— ”

(Y/N)’s eyes snap to the side as she hears distressed whinnying and the thunder of horses hooves, a sharp gasp leaving her.

“Hey! Whoa, slow down, damn it!” a man desperately shouts, unable to control the horses.

“Arthur!” (Y/N) barks urgently, spotting the coach being dragged by an agitated horse heading straight for them.

Arthur’s head snaps to the side as he swiftly and firmly yanks the reins of the horses, prompting them to halt with annoyed whinnies of protests. The women in the back and Uncle jostle with surprised sounds, Arthur’s hand releasing the rein and grabbing (Y/N)’s thigh to keep her balanced as she shifts from the jerked motion. 

They managed to stop right in time, the coach racing directly in front of their path and continuing down the way, the coach aggressively rocking on its wheels. The man indistinctly shouts an apology over his shoulder, his hands grappling with the reins as the horses begin to jerk to and fro on the path.

“Look at that coach!” Uncle exclaims with surprise. “He’s all over the place!”

(Y/N) and Arthur exchange a quick look, Arthur squeezing her leg before grabbing hold of the reins once more. Karen, Tilly and Mary-beth look worried as they lean outward to look ahead, Arthur urging the horses into a canter after the coach.

The man manages to steer his coach off the road, but it rocks violently, and the reins slip out of his hands. The horses slip free from the reins, the harnesses left on them as they dart in separate directions with neighs, the caravan rolling to a stop. 

“Oh, no! Goddamn it, the horses!” the man helplessly shouts, groaning. “Oh, this is just what I needed!”

One of the horses slows and lingers near the coach, panting roughly as it looks around restlessly. The man rises with a groan as he looks around, his eyes wide with panic. The other horse, a white Shire, races further away before skidding to a stop, rearing back and whinnying loudly with obvious agitation and stress. Arthur brings their wagon to a stop a few feet behind the coach, his eyes flicking between the horses.

“Is one of you men gonna help get that fellers horse?” Tilly questions with worry.

Uncle blinks, clearing his throat. “Oh— I got lumbago! It’s very serious!” he tells her in a higher pitched voice, chuckling sheepishly.

“(Y/N)—” Arthur’s voice gains their attention, the group noticing (Y/N) was already off the wagon and making her way down the small incline and past the tracks to the horse. “Alright, stay here,” he tells the four in a grumble, rising and smoothly hopping down from the wagon.

Karen lets out a soft snort as she rolls her eyes lightly, Mary-beth grinning widely while watching as Tilly smiles softly.

-

Arthur makes his way over to the man, shaking his head.

“Lumbago, really…” Arthur grumbles under his breath, repeating the excuse Uncle had given with sarcasm. He straightens up, clearing his throat. “You alright there, friend?” he calls to the man.

Arthur notices the brown horse pacing restlessly nearby, and he approaches confidently with his hands lifted in a calming manner. The horse huffs loudly and slows to a stop, pawing at the ground and nickering before Arthur grabs the reins, guiding it over to the man.

The man looks over with surprise, nodding his head as he sighs deeply. “Yes— thanks. I’m real sorry about almost crashing into y’all. Horses got spooked and took off, think it was a snake on the path. I guess I didn’t have their gear on proper and couldn’t get a handle on them.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Arthur dismisses with an assuring nod, passing the reins of the brown horse to the man. “We’ll get your other horse, just sit tight.” With that, he turns and begins to make his way over to where (Y/N) and the horse were.

“Thank you, mister! And to your lady as well!” the man calls after Arthur, already starting on strapping the horse in.

Arthur bristles at the implication of (Y/N) being his lady, but he says nothing, his eyes darting around with embarrassment as he clears his throat. He walks briskly down the slanted ground and past the tracks, pausing and looking ahead as he spots (Y/N) approaching with the white horse, the animal’s reins in her hand as she leads it. 

“Yeah! You got it!” Karen cheers with a laugh from the wagon. 

“Well done, you two!” Mary-beth cheers as well, her palms pressing together and her fingers clapping together rapidly. 

(Y/N) smiles at Arthur as she joins his side, the two walking together as she continues to lead the horse. 

“Why are they starin’ at us?” (Y/N) questions with a hint of amusement as she nods to the women cheering and exclaiming, a soft chuckle lacing her words as she shakes her head. 

“Got no idea,” Arthur replies with feigned annoyance, a small smile playing at his lips as he shakes his head.

(Y/N) softly snickers under her breath as she and Arthur continue towards the man, the man finishing strapping in the brown horse just as they approach. 

“Oh, thank you! Thank you both so much!” the man earnestly thanks as he hustles around the front of the coach, approaching (Y/N) as she passes the reins over to him. “You are a true lady and gentleman, you are! A kind and perfect couple!”

(Y/N) lets out a surprised, embarrassed laugh at this, her eyes darting downward as she steps back. “Oh, uh— thank you, sir. It was no trouble.”

Arthur’s hand rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to (Y/N). “Yeah, it was nothin’. I mean, I was just tryin’ to impress the lady here,” he half-jokes, tilting his head to (Y/N). 

She feels her face warm as she plays it off with a chuckle, the woman elbowing his side gently and playfully as she lifts her gaze to the man’s. 

“Well, I appreciate you both!” the man replies, chuckling lightly as he tips his hat to them with gratitude.

“Take care now,” she calls, nodding as she and Arthur start their way back towards the wagon where the others awaited. 

“C’mon, let’s go!” Uncle enthusiastically urges, patting the wagon. 

“To Valentine!” Karen eagerly cheers, earning a whoop from Mary-beth and a laugh from Tilly.

Arthur offers his hand to (Y/N), the woman taking it and climbing up along the driver side of the wagon. She scoots over as he climbs up as well, his large frame settling in the driving seat as he takes hold of the reins, flicking them gently to urge the horses into a trot. 

“You’re turning into a regular old fairy godmother there, Arthur,” Uncle comments casually, glancing ahead.

Arthur’s brow raises at this. “What’s that supposed to mean? (Y/N) got out and helped first.”

Karen snorts softly at his defensive tone. “Yeah, but you could’a just let her do it by herself,” she points out with amusement. 

“It just means you were kind,” Mary-beth chimes in, grinning. “(Y/N)’s a good influence on you.”

(Y/N) huffs at this as she shakes her head, shifting in her seat as she glances around the area around them. “Naw. Arthur would’ve helped even without me there. He has a good heart,” she speaks honestly with absolute certainty, her arms folding over her chest comfortably. 

Arthur looks at (Y/N) from the corner of his eye, feeling a strange, unwelcomed urge to disagree with the statement. He didn’t believe it himself, but hearing her say it made him want to. Mary-beth nods at (Y/N)’s statement, her smile growing. However, her attention shifts to Uncle, her smile faltering as she gives him a glare of disapproval.

“And you haven’t, you repulsive old lizard!” Mary-beth declares, pointing at him in an accusatory manner. 

Uncle stammers with disbelief, his hand resting on his chest dramatically. “Lizard’s have hearts!”

Tilly shakes her head with a chuckle of amusement, her eyes flicking ahead to the back of (Y/N) and Arthur’s heads. “Well, I’m proud of you both.”

Arthur exhales a soft, humorless chuckle. “To be honest, if you hadn’t been there… I probably would’a robbed him,” he states in a blunt, joking tone.

(Y/N) lets out a surprised laugh at this as she playfully hits his arm, Arthur grinning impishly as Mary-beth shakes her head at the two. Karen giggles as Tilly rolls her eyes with an amused grin, Uncle still pouting over Mary-beth’s words.

“Well, still, you didn’t!” Mary-beth points out.

The town of Valentine comes into view, the dirt beneath the wagon’s wheels slowly shifting into damp mud. You could both hear and smell the sheep that were corralled nearby, the train pulling out of the station with a loud whistle as it chugs off. 

Arthur drives the wagon over the train tracks as the train drives off, sheep belting nearby and a few people around the train station. 

Tilly exclaims with disgust, her hand covering her mouth and nose as they pass the corralled sheep. “Smell those sheep!” she groans.

“I’m trying not to,” (Y/N) replies with a small grimace, smiling fondly at her reaction. “Didn’t realize the sheep would smell this strongly.”

“You sure it isn’t Uncle?” Karen questions rhetorically, smirking. 

Uncle lets out a chuckle at this. “Oh, very funny.”

Arthur veers off onto the road to the right, following it around the barns. A small saloon resided on the outskirts and another larger and seemingly more alive one down the main road further. 

“This looks like a decent little town!” Tilly points out with delight. “Other people. Finally!”

“Look at all that snow on the mountains.” Mary-beth nods ahead, the mountains in the distance caked in snow. “Sure don't want to be back up there.”

Tilly frowns at the sight of the mountains, her expression becoming thoughtful. “You think we should’ve asked Molly to come with us?”

Karen scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, no! Miss O’Shea is far too high and mighty now for the likes of us,” she mocks with sarcasm. “Or to do any real work. She’s a society lady, now.”

(Y/N) frowns lightly at this, her eyes averting downward. Molly did seem to change after her and Dutch became exclusive. But part of her always was more regal, in a way, than they were. She never washed clothing, but she did spend time sewing holes in clothing and cooking. But after the two became an item, she just stays away in Dutch’s tent or by his side, either lost in doing her makeup or reading by herself when she isn’t with Dutch.

“Okay! Take a good look around, ladies!” Karen declares with excitement. “Let’s see what we got here.”

Uncle motions ahead. “Go on left here, down the main street.”

The buildings and shops were clustered together on either side of a large and wide main road, the road bustling with farmers and different folk passing through. A stable was visible at the very end of the main road, (Y/N) perking up at the sight of it. Her gaze flicks to her right, her heart sinking briefly at the sight of a Sheriff standing outside his office, seeming to be looking around for any sign of trouble.

The Sheriff nods his head at her with a friendly smile and a tip of his hat, his Deputy doing the same with a wave. (Y/N) manages a casual and friendly smile in return as she nods, her attention shifting ahead once more.

“We could do some bounties if we ever need some quick money,” (Y/N) quietly mumbles to Arthur, having noticed the bounty board posted outside. “I mean, can’t expect Uncle to go around hunting dangerous wanted criminals,” she adds bluntly with a grin, Uncle glancing to her at the mention of his name.

“Heaven forbid he puts his head on the line,” Arthur jokes back sarcastically. 

Uncle wryly laughs at this. “That’s a young person’s game!” he defends. 

Karen leans out as she looks around, the woman lighting up at the sight of a hotel adjacent from the bustling and lively saloon. 

“Ooh, yes! We can get up into some mischief here alright,” she declares with a grin, nodding. 

Arthur’s eyes scan along the people apprehensively. “Just remember… keep a low profile.” 

Karen snorts softly. “Will you remember that though, Arthur?” she challenges back.

The man shrugs a shoulder. “Probably not.”

(Y/N) softly chuckles at this, rolling her eyes playfully. “I’ll have to keep a close eye on you, huh?” she teases fondly, bumping her elbow gently into his own.

Arthur only smirks faintly in response to this, the man guiding the horses down the road of town towards the stables. 

“Let’s park up down the end there, near the stables,” Uncle encourages, nodding ahead as he adjusts the brim of his hat.

(Y/N) can’t help but look around with interest as Arthur guides the horses to a patch of grass out of the main road beside the stables, part of her having missed the bustling of a town and the sight of other people. It was almost peaceful in the town, though she could hear rowdiness coming from the saloon, but it sounded like the usual kind rather than trouble. For now, anyway. 

“Alright! Here we are!” Uncle declares cheerfully as he rises, shuffling out of the back of the wagon. “Just like I said, the cultural center of civilization! Man at his finest.”

The other three girls follow him off the wagon, mindful of their skirts as they do so. (Y/N) rises and smoothly steps off the wagon, grunting softly as she lands in the grass. Arthur lowers off the wagon as well, the man adjusting his hat as he glances around, ever vigilant.

“I wanted to check out the horses since we’re here. Maybe I’ll find a good one,” (Y/N) comments lightly with a lingering sadness tinting her words, motioning back to the stable with a nod of her head. “I can catch up with you in a bit.”

Arthur glances back at the stable, his hands resting on the buckle of his belt as he leans closer. “Don’t leave me alone with Uncle,” he complains lowly in her ear, his voice playful and dramatic.

(Y/N) chortles softly under her breath as her heart skips an odd beat, the woman playfully rolling her eyes as she elbows him in the side gently. “You’ll be fine, big guy. I’ll be out in just a few minutes,” she assures with amusement. 

Arthur lets out a deep, dramatic sigh as his shoulders slump, though he smiles faintly as he watches her turn and head off. His eyes follow her as she makes her way to the stable, the man’s hand lifting to scratch at his jaw before he glances over to Uncle with reluctance.

“So, what’re we doin’?” he questions in a monotone, making his way over to the old man at a leisurely pace.

“Well! We’re gonna do what any self-respecting maniac does,” Uncle starts, sighing deeply and looking around the town before nodding. “Put the women to work!” he finishes with a grin.

Mary-beth rolls her eyes lightly as she smiles, Tilly softly snorting under her breath as Karen lets out a chuckle of delight.

“With pleasure,” Karen responds, rubbing her hands together lightly as she looks around. “We’ll start at the saloon.”

Arthur exhales deeply as his eyes flick to the saloon, the man shifting his weight on his feet. “Okay. Few of the boys will be in there, so it should be fine,” he hesitantly agrees, returning his gaze to the three women. “Just stay outta trouble and don’t get yourselves noticed,” he tells the three, a hint of protectiveness to his words.

The three women nod at his words, Karen feigning nonchalant annoyance as Tilly smiles warmly, Mary-beth grinning.

“I need to get somethin’ from the stores,” Uncle tells Arthur, motioning to the general store.

“Okay,” Arthur agrees, walking alongside the old man and turning his head to the women. “We’ll see you at the general store when you’re done!” he calls.

“Come on, ladies!” Karen encourages, her arms winding around Mary-beth and Tilly’s shoulders on either side of her as the three make their way towards the saloon. “Imagine we’re in Paris.”

Arthur walks alongside Uncle, his steps slowed to match the older man’s as they approach the wooden boardwalk of the front of the store.

“So, that’s how you see yourself, is it?” Arthur questions with a raised brow. “A maniac?”

Uncle huffs softly. “Well, in my youth, I used to be known as the ‘one-shot kid’!” he proudly states.

“Okay…” Arthur slowly replies, noticing Uncle’s eyes on him. “I’m not gonna ask why,” he adds bluntly, causing the man to deflate.

“You are a sad man, Arthur Morgan,” Uncle grumbles with disappointment, hobbling slowly up the wooden steps. “But! I know you love me.”

Arthur’s eye twitches. “Desperately,” he sarcastically responds. “You’re my favorite parasite,” he muses, pausing and pretending to think as they walk along the wooden path. “No… ringworm’s my favorite parasite. You’re my second favorite parasite.” 

Uncle sighs and rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”

“I lied,” Arthur confesses, the two slowing to a stop at the general store’s entrance as he looks up in pretend thought. “Ringworm, then rats with the plague… then you.” He smirks.

“Shut up,” Uncle grumbles, nodding to the door. “This is the place, now. Come on.”

Arthur’s expression holds amusement as Uncle enters with a greeting ‘afternoon’ to the store clerk, Arthur following after him inside. He looks around, noting that it was empty, aside from the clerk himself. The shelves were lined with a variety of goodies for sale, as well as some produce and canned goods as well.

“So… what d’ya need?” Arthur questions, his eyes scanning along the shelf.

Uncle wheezes softly. “Hell, a drop of whiskey for a start. Something to pass the time while we’re waiting on the women.”

Arthur scoffs as he approaches the shelves, his hands resting on his belt. “Always thinkin’ ahead, ain’t you?” he muses, his arms folding over his chest.

“Whiskey’s on the top shelf, nearest the door,” the clerk, an older man with a thick, dark and bushy beard helpfully calls over to Uncle, causing him to nod back in thanks.

Arthur stands for a moment before nodding to himself, his arms lowering. “I’m gonna grab some things. Once we start explorin’ out further, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few provisions,” he comments out loud, already starting to grab a few canned goods.

“‘We’ meaning you and (Y/N)?” Uncle questions in a casual tone, glancing back to the man

“Well, I certainly ain’t takin’ you out with me,” Arthur bluntly responds, carefully cradling an armful of canned goods as he walks along the side of the shelvings. 

Uncle reaches up, grabbing two bottles of whiskey. “Just askin’!” he replies lightly. “You two sure do spend a lot of time together, huh?”

“Everyone in the gang does,” Arthur replies in a monotone, his eyes narrowing at the man’s tone warily. “Why?”

“Just… noticed you and her do more than others is all,” Uncle slowly answers, keeping his voice light and nonchalant. 

Arthur releases a sharp, annoyed breath, heat creeping along his neck as he grabs a few tins of coffee with more force than necessary. “Are you tryin’ to get on my nerves?”

“Well,” Uncle chuckles out, grinning as he sets the bottle down at the counter for the clerk to ring up. “Gettin’ on your nerves is in my god-given nature.” He shifts, leaning against the counter as he watches Arthur. “You’re very defensive over (Y/N), ain’t ya?”

“Uh-huh,” Arthur hums back in an absentminded monotone. “Just get your things so we can go,” he impatiently grumbles with obvious annoyance, pausing as he spots the hair pomade. He hesitates before grabbing one, the man glancing it over with a small frown.

“Well, I’m already done!” Uncle happily replies with delight, seeming to relish at Arthur’s behavior with amusement. He turns to the clerk, passing over a few bills to cover the whiskey. “Thank you kindly!” He grabs the bottles of whiskey, a spring in his step as he makes his way out. “I’ll wait for you outside.” 

“Okay,” Arthur calls back absentmindedly, not looking up as he inspects the tin of hair pomade.

He seems to internally debate with himself before sighing deeply, the man keeping it. He makes his way to the counter and sets everything down, the clerk grinning with delight at the sight as he begins to ring up the supplies, everything coming out to around thirty dollars.

Arthur tucks away the provisions he’d purchased— a couple cans of sweetcorn, peaches, and a few tins of assorted biscuits, along with a few tins of instant coffee and one jar of hair pomade—, into his satchel, the once empty bag now filled up nicely. He hands over most of his current funds to the clerk, but he doesn’t mind, knowing the supplies would be helpful and used.

“You’re all set,” the clerk says with a smile, nodding.

“Thank you,” Arthur politely mutters, adjusting his satchel as he turns. 

He hesitates in his steps when he notices a small display of bagged candies, the man knowing (Y/N) had a liking for that particular kind, even if she rarely allowed herself to indulge in them. Wordlessly, Arthur sets down three more dollar bills on the counter, the clerk confused before noticing the man grabbing a bag of the candies. 

“Have a good one, sir!” he calls to Arthur with a friendly wave, glancing down as he counts through the bills with a smile.

Arthur doesn’t reply as he tucks the candy away, the man pushing the door open and stepping out with a deep sigh. He glances to his right, Uncle sitting on the bench in front of the store and drinking away at one of the bottles of whiskey. 

“Oh!” Uncle hiccups lightly as Arthur approaches, the man offering him the unopened whiskey with a grin. “Here’s to your good health, sir!” He chuckles, Arthur smiling faintly in thanks and nodding as he takes it. “And to being down here, off that mountain.”

“Absolutely,” Arthur agrees wholeheartedly, nodding as he lowers down to sit beside Uncle, easily popping the whiskey open.

Uncle sighs softly as he looks around, resting his whiskey bottle on his propped up knee. “It’s a funny world. This time in my career, I pictured myself being married to an heiress.” 

Arthur lets out a snort, his eyes flicking to the stables subconsciously as he watches for any sign of (Y/N). “Sure you did,” he comments with amusement.

-

Time slips away from (Y/N) as she looks over the few horses stabled, her expression thoughtful and a tad disappointed. She didn’t truly feel a connection with any of them, not like she did for her last. She sighs as she makes her way out of the stables, the sun now high in the sky and the town still alive with the bustle of livestock workers and others going about their day. 

(Y/N) makes her way to the general store with slumped shoulders, her hands gently grasping the strap of her bag as she walks along the wooden boardwalk. She glances up at the general storefront, her eyebrows raising and her expression softening at the sight of Arthur, the man’s hat tilted over his eyes as he dozed. An empty bottle of whiskey was held limply in his grasp, his arms folded over his chest. Uncle snored loudly beside the man, his hat on the floor near his foot and an empty bottle next to it knocked over.

A soft, amused chuckle leaves her, the woman reaching over and carefully taking the empty bottle of whiskey from Arthur’s hand. She sets it down on the bench beside him before picking up Uncle’s hat, dusting it off and setting it on the arm of the bench beside the old man resting. 

“(Y/N)!” an excited voice calls, catching her off guard for a moment as she looks back quickly. 

She relaxes at the sight of Karen hustling over with Mary-beth and Tilly in tow, their excitement palpable as they giggle and wave her over, as to not disturb the sleeping men.

“What?” (Y/N) questions with amusement as she smiles with a raised brow, a soft laugh leaving her as she hops down from the elevated wooden boardwalk to be at their level. 

“You gotta come in there with us,” Karen breathlessly states, taking a breath to calm her giggling. “These men here are suckers! Show ‘em a little attention and they’re wrapped around your finger!”

(Y/N)’s brows raise at this, the woman blinking owlishly. “Oh. Uh… you know I’m no good at that kinda thing,” she replies with a sheepish chuckle. “Besides, most men don’t appreciate a lady in pants,” she adds playfully, though there is truth to her words.

“These guys are too wasted to even notice what you’re wearing,” Tilly points out, smiling with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I already pickpocketed a handful of them. You’re a catch, (Y/N), it’d be easy!” 

(Y/N) rubs the back of her neck lightly, her eyes darting over to the saloon as her lips curve down in thought. Mary-beth glances to Tilly and Karen before returning her eyes back to (Y/N), noticing her hesitation and discomfort.

“I heard somethin’ about a house when I was listening in to people’s conversations, was thinkin’ of taking a quick look,” Mary-beth chimes in to change the subject, pausing as she notices (Y/N)’s look. “Don’t worry! I’ll be careful! Won’t do anything but look around,” she quickly assures. “I’m sure if you checked around town you’d find something else. Don’t need to flirt with men,” she encourages in her gentle voice. 

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Karen agrees lightly with a nod, giving (Y/N) a reassuring smile. “Tilly and I will do fine on our own, ain’t that so, Miss Jackson?” she questions playfully, nudging Tilly with her elbow. 

“Of course,” Tilly confidently replies, smiling brightly as her arms fold over her chest, her posture straightened. 

(Y/N)’s features soften as she nods, a soft, fond chuckle leaving her. “Alright then. I’m gonna go get some ammo from the gunshop. The clerks there usually have good information on what’s happening,” she tells the three, nodding to the gunshop, which was down the road across from the sheriff’s office. “You three be careful, okay?” 

“We will!” the three reply in unison, earning a soft snort from (Y/N) as she shakes her head with amusement. 

(Y/N) sighs softly as she glances back to the sleeping Arthur, her smile growing as she hums lightly. She turns and heads off, making her way to the gunsmith, Karen, Tilly and Mary-beth heading off in their own direction. 

-

Minutes pass by as the group go about their own activities, Uncle and Arthur both remaining outside of the general store undisturbed as the two sleep. Arthur’s chin was dipped and his arms folded over his chest, his hat tilted on his head to block the sun from his eyes.

“Gentlemen!” a soft and excited voice greets, rousing Arthur from his slumber.

The man sits up as he blinks his eyes open, his hand adjusting his hat on his head. He grunts lightly as he elbows Uncle, Uncle jostling awake with a snort. 

Mary-beth rushes towards the two on the boardwalk, a big smile on her face. “I think I’ve got something good,” she tells Arthur, coming to a stop as her hands clasp in front of her. “I snuck into this fancy house, and acted like a servant girl.” She pauses, grinning with a shrug as she adds, “Usually works,” before continuing, “Someone was saying her sister was taking a trip from New York or some place. Train full of rich tourists, heading to Saint Denis and then cruising off to Brazil!”

Arthur’s brows raise appraisingly, the man rubbing his jaw. “Okay,” he lightly replies, his voice a bit gruff from sleeping. 

“A train laden with baggage and passing through a bit of deserted country at night…” Mary-beth continues excitedly, motioning with her hands as she grins. “As to get to the docks in time for the tides, in some place called Scarlett Meadows.”

Uncle perks up at this, nodding. “Yeah, I know it. Yeah… yeah! It’s right out near New Hanover,” he tells Arthur. “Right, it’s real quiet out there!”

“Sounds good,” Arthur approves with a nod, glancing around briefly. “Where’s… (Y/N)? And Tilly and Karen?”

“I think at the hotel. They were picking up some drunken fellers that they was gonna rob,” Mary-beth pauses, noticing the expression that crosses Arthur’s features. “Tilly and Karen, I meant!” she hastily adds before he could speak. “(Y/N) wasn’t for it, said she was going to the gunshop down thataway.”

Arthur’s furrowed brow almost instantly softens at this, though he knew he shouldn’t be surprised, and that he doesn’t have a right to feel any sort of jealousy. But he couldn’t help it, deciding to blame it on his protective nature rather than the locked emotion in his heart. 

“They have been gone for quite a while,” Mary-beth slowly says, glancing around with a frown. 

The man sighs deeply, rising and rolling his shoulder. “I’ll go see if there’s any trouble.”

Mary-beth nods at this, her eyes flicking past Arthur as she brightens. “Oh! There’s Tilly over there!”

She gestures across the way, Arthur looking over. His eyes narrow as he watches Tilly shove at an unfamiliar man, the man gripping her bicep roughly as he begins to drag her down an alleyway.

“That… does not look ideal,” Mary-beth softly and worriedly says, her eyes widening at the sight with fear.

“Excuse me,” Arthur mutters lowly, swiftly stepping off the boardwalk and landing in a smooth motion. 

His frame is tense as he storms across the way, his steps quick as he hustles to the area he’d seen the man dragging Tilly in. 

“You thought I wouldn’t find you, Tilly?” he hears a man snarl.

“You can go kiss a damn snake for all I care!” Tilly shouts back as Arthur rounds the corner. “Get off me!”

“Hey!” Arthur’s voice is like thunder, startling the man greatly.

Tilly was cornered against the wall, one of the man’s hands grabbing at her shoulder tightly and the other holding a gun at his side

“Get your hands off her,” Arthur growls out darkly, coming to a stop a few feet from the two. 

“Who are you?” the man demands, a faint tremor to his voice despite trying to seem tough. 

Tilly’s face screams relief as she pants heavily, looking from Arthur to the man. “A friend of mine!”

Arthur draws his pistol before the man could move, aiming it directly at his head. “Get the hell off her, you son of a bitch,” he rasps lowly, his thumb cocking the pistol with a soft click. 

The man’s eyes widen as he releases Tilly’s shoulder, his hands outstretched on either side of him in a diffusing manner as Arthur keeps his eyes trained on his gun.

“Hey! Hey… take it easy,” the man calmly and evenly tries to diffuse. “There’s no problem here.” He lowers his gun slowly, tucking it into his holster. 

“There will be if you don’t get the hell out of here now,” Arthur threatens without blinking, his finger keeping on the trigger. 

The man hesitates as his eyes dart from Arthur to Tilly, seeming to be weighing his options. His hand hovers near his pistol, but he seems to smartly decide against drawing it, the man exhaling sharply as he turns to Tilly. 

“You’re making a big mistake, Tilly Jackson,” he tells her quietly, shaking his head and scoffing. 

Tilly isn’t frightened, the woman glaring at him and even leaning closer. “Just get lost,” she venomously hisses.

The man scoffs once more, waving a dismissing hand. “I ain’t doing this with you right now.”

With that, the man starts to storm off, Tilly breathing heavily as she slowly makes her way to Arthur. Arthur lowers his pistol, but doesn’t put it away yet, his eyes trained on the man’s retreating form.

“Go and wait with Uncle and Mary-beth,” Arthur tells Tilly, his voice softened considerably. “They're across the street.”

Tilly nods as she exhales shakily. “Okay. Thanks, Arthur,” she quietly replies, nodding and hugging herself as she hastily retreats down the alley.

Arthur watches her for a moment before returning his focus ahead. He walks forward slowly and calmly as he keeps his eyes on the man, wanting to ensure he truly leaves before heading back to the others. 

-

(Y/N) looks through her satchel with a content grin on her face, the woman feeling much better now that she’d stocked up on ammo for both her and Arthur. She’d also heard some news, though it wasn’t truly helpful— just that the O’Driscolls were a problem attacking travelers and that there were a few bounties available at the Sheriff’s office. Part of her was glad there wasn’t any big news— specifically regarding Pinkertons in the area.

She makes her way over to the general store, her eyes landing on the bench Arthur had been sleeping on. She comes to a stop, her brow furrowing lightly. Uncle was also gone as well, though she could see him inside the store, no doubt purchasing more alcohol. (Y/N) turns to Mary-beth and Tilly, her head tilting.

“Where’d Arthur go?” she asks, her eyes flicking around for the man. 

“I— I was in trouble,” Tilly tentatively replies, her gaze shifting down as she grimaces. “He helped me. He’s making sure he leaves, I think.”

(Y/N) frowns at this, feeling a sense of disappointment and worry all at once. She knew Arthur would be back in just a moment, but it felt like the two hadn’t had any time to spend together. Not that she minded being out with the others, she just was hoping for alone time.

“Are you okay?” (Y/N) asks softly, reaching out and gently squeezing Tilly’s shoulder. 

Tilly hesitates, but she nods stiffly, her fingers gently fidgeting in front of her. “Just shook up. I’ll be okay,” she assures, lifting her eyes to (Y/N)’s with a small smile. “It… It was him . But I’m okay now.”

(Y/N)’s features harden at this, and she knew exactly who the woman was talking about. “Okay. I’m glad Arthur was there,” she gently replies, not wanting to pry at the moment when she seemed so shaken. “Where’s Karen?” she questions, noticing abruptly the woman was missing as she releases Tilly’s shoulder.

“She’s still at the hotel,” Mary-beth replies with a worried frown, her hands gently grasping Tilly’s shoulders to comfort the woman.

“Shit,” (Y/N) sighs out softly, turning to the hotel. “Stay here,” she tells the two firmly, noticing they seemed like they wanted to follow. 

(Y/N) briskly walks across the way, her boots softly squelching in the mud beneath them as she approaches the hotel. She walks up the steps, pushing open the door and glancing around with narrowed eyes as she listens. The interior of the main lobby was clean and furnitured with seats, though it wasn’t nearly as grand as the one she’d seen in Blackwater. There was a set of stairs leading up to the rooms to the right, and to the left, a hall leading to the few rooms meant for washing. 

“Can I help you, miss?” the hotel manager questions politely, his hands resting on the counter before him.

“Lookin’ for my friend,” she replies vaguely, frowning as she strolls closer. “A woman. About this tall. Blond hair, pale skin with freckles on her face,” she describes. 

“Oh,” the hotel manager glances upward. “I believe she came in here with a gentleman a few minutes ago. Should be up there still.”

(Y/N) nods with a soft grunt of acknowledgement as she briskly makes her way to the stairs, her hands grasping the buckle of her belt as she makes her way up. 

“Room 2B,” the man calls after her quickly. “And please, no trouble now!”

“Won't be any unless it finds me,” (Y/N) reassures back, not slowing as she enters the hallway. Her eyes narrow as she hears what sounds like a slap, followed by the distinct, muffled sound of Karen yelping in pain. Without a second thought, she strides towards the door, kicking it open with a sharp plant of her boot.

-

Arthur grumbles softly under his breath as he makes his way back to the others, his hand resting on his gun and his shoulders still tensed. He glances back even though he’d seen the man hop on his horse and leave, his attention flicking ahead as he spots Tilly and Mary-beth standing side by side, staring at the hotel.

“What?” he questions gruffly as he approaches, looking to the hotel as well but not seeing anything.

“(Y/N) went to the hotel to get Karen,” Uncle tells the man for the two women, nodding ahead from where he sat, a newly purchased bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“Course she did,” Arthur grumbles, lifting his fingers and pinching the bridge of his nose.

This was supposed to be a day for the two to get to know the town together, but instead, it’s turned into a mess. Though, he wasn’t surprised. Most of their outings did. He just wanted this one to be different, a way to help her cheer up. And they were supposed to spend the day together .

“Thank you, Arthur, for—” Tilly starts as she rubs at her arm, turning to the man.

She blinks owlishly when she sees he was already across the road, his strides quick as he makes his way to the hotel. Tilly and Mary-beth exchange a baffled glance, Mary-beth letting out a soft giggle and shaking her head with amusement.

“Don’t need’a thank me!” Arthur calls gruffly without looking back, indicating despite his abrupt departure he’d been listening.

He shoves the door to the hotel open and strides inside, the hotel manager seeming a bit startled by the suddenness as he jumps. 

“Looking for a—” Arthur starts impatiently, cut off by the heavy sound of something being thrown on the floor above them.

Without another word, Arthur strides up the stairs two at a time, the man hustling down the hallway. He can faintly hear the hotel manager pleading for no trouble, but he doesn’t pay him any mind. He notices an open door and rushes over, coming to a stop at the doorway and taking in the sight. 

An unfamiliar, lean and clearly wasted man was writhing on the floor in pain, the man holding his groin with one hand, the other clutching at his very obviously broken nose as blood leaks from his nostrils. Karen was panting softly where she sat on the bed, her hair disheveled and a bruise forming along the corner of her mouth. (Y/N) stood over the man, glaring down at him with an icy expression that sent a shiver down Arthur’s own spine, as the woman rarely looked so angered. 

(Y/N) rubs her knuckles lightly, her eyes flicking up to meet Arthur’s. Her expression almost instantly shifts to a small, delighted smile at his appearance, though some of the hardened anger lingered in her gaze.

“Hey. You missed everything,” she comments lightly, nodding down to the man, who was currently trying to crawl away.

(Y/N) steps forward and leans down in a fluid motion, the woman pickpocketing a few dollar bills off the man. He groans in protest and pain, but he slowly goes slump on the floor, passing out from the pain.

“What the hell happened?” Arthur questions with bafflement and a hint of amusement, resting his forearm on the doorframe as his brow raises. 

Karen sighs deeply, seeming embarrassed. “I was trying to play him. Not very well,” she dryly replies, shaking her head as she rises from the bed.

“You okay?” Arthur questions, noticing her lip.

Karen nods, tentatively touching her lip as she makes her way to the door. “Fine.”

Arthur shifts aside, allowing Karen to step out. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” Karen exasperatedly snaps, pausing and taking a deep breath to calm herself. “(Y/N) got to us before he could do much, I’m fine. Really,” she quietly adds, her tone, while still somewhat annoyed, softened.

(Y/N) watches Karen with a faint, knowing look, recognizing the woman was no doubt embarrassed. She knew Karen prided herself on being tough and able to handle herself, but she also knew that pride could get someone killed and would never risk it. 

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Karen calls lightly, slowing to a stop as she glances back at the woman with a small frown.

“Course,” (Y/N) replies with a soothing smile and a nod, indicating it was okay. She glances to Arthur, motioning for them to follow Karen out.

“The stupid bastard… was boasting about the bank,” Karen tells the two as they walk, her voice hushed down. 

(Y/N)’s brow raises as she and Arthur exchange a look. “Really? The bank? Here ?” she asks.

Karen lets out a soft chuckle, the three making their way down the stairs. “Sure, I know small town banks are usually a waste of time, but… this is a livestock town. There’s lots of cash sometimes.”

“That’s… true,” (Y/N) slowly agrees, nodding her head thoughtfully.

“Okay. Keep investigating,” Arthur agrees as well, motioning for them to be discreet as they enter the lobby. 

“I will,” Karen replies.

The hotel manager perks up as he spots the three, though he seems uncertain. “I hope, uh… everything’s okay up there?” he slowly asks.

(Y/N) clicks her tongue softly. “Well. You’ve got a man knocked out, but otherwise, yeah,” she replies casually, nodding as the man blinks. “Ah! Ah, he deserved it,” she defends, noticing his wide eyes. “He hit my friend here.”

“Oh.” The hotel manager frowns at the sight of Karen’s lip, the woman turning away with a groan. “Okay, then. I’ll have the sheriff come pick him up for a few nights in a cell.” 

“Good,” (Y/N) praises with a small, appreciative smile. 

She turns and pushes the door leading out opened and steps aside while holding it, allowing Karen and Arthur to exit. She waves to the hotel manager with a friendly smile, the man hesitantly returning it, seeming unsure of what to make of what had just happened.

“Thank you,” Karen says quietly as she looks around, sighing. “You too, Arthur. For coming. I don’t much like being saved, but… when I have to be.”

“I understand,” Arthur says with an understanding nod, knowing the feeling well. “But you can always count on us to come help if you need it.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) agrees, smiling as she gently bumps her arm into Karen’s. “No shame in needing saving. We all know you’re strong, and capable. I just would rather you not be hurt trying to prove it.”

“I know,” Karen grumbles with feigned exasperation, though she does smile lightly as they start their way across the road.

Uncle, Mary-beth and Tilly walk along the boardwalk and make their way down onto the main road, meeting the trio near a building still under construction. 

“You okay?” Tilly calls with concern, spotting Karen’s injury.

Arthur gently pats Karen’s shoulder as he slows to a stop, (Y/N) stopping beside the man and folding her arms over her chest comfortably.

Karen sighs as she rubs at her jaw, nodding her head and approaching. “Sure. He only punched me,” she says in a monotone, softly chuckling and motioning back to (Y/N). “(Y/N) punched and kicked him a lot harder.”

(Y/N) smiles at this with amusement as she shakes her head, her eyes flicking to the side as she notices someone. A man sat atop his horse, his eyes fixated on the woman as he frowns deeply, his brow furrowed and his eyes squinted. He wore a suit, his horse, a morgan, deep brown with white socks and a chocolate brown mane.

“Hey,” Mary-beth softly mumbles, noticing him as well. “Who’s that guy over there lookin’ at (Y/N)?”

Arthur’s head whips to look back, his eyes narrowing instantly at the sight of the man on his horse. Uncle frowns, Tilly, Karen and Mary-beth looking confused and worried, (Y/N)’s arms slowly uncrossing. The man’s eyes flick from (Y/N) to Arthur, his eyes slowly widening as his face becomes pale.

“Weren’t you at Blackwater a few weeks back?” the man calls, pointing between (Y/N) and Arthur as his other hand tightly grips the reins of his horse. 

(Y/N) feels her heart sink at the accusation, but she doesn’t allow her expression to change, the woman only letting out a dismissive hum. “Nope. Ain’t been that far west in months. Isn’t that right, honey?” she casually replies, glancing to Arthur as her arm winds around his own.

“Yes, darlin’,” Arthur smoothly agrees, his frame tensed as he angles himself between (Y/N) and the man to block his view of her, keeping his head tilted downward in an attempt to hide his face. “Must have us confused with someone—”

“No! I don’t, you were there— you both were!” the man cuts him off, his eyes wide as he frantically points at the two. “You two with a bunch of other fellers!” 

“Us? No. Impossible. We just got married out here,” Arthur firmly replies, gently untangling his arm from (Y/N)’s. He glances back to Uncle and the girls before the man, stepping forward. “Listen, friend. Come here for a minute.”

(Y/N)’s eyes dart around hastily, the woman realizing they’d left Arthur’s horse behind. If the man were to run, they’d have no means to chase him, not unless they had a horse of their own.

“I saw you both!” the man insists, becoming anxious as Arthur begins to slowly approach. 

“Come here!” Arthur urges with a tight lipped smile, his tone strained and attempting to be friendly.

The man frantically tugs at his horse’s reins, causing it to rear back with a whinny. 

“Come on! Get!” he urges, turning the horse and digging his heels into the mighty animal’s sides.

The horse neighs as it takes off, startling a few workers and people as they hastily get out of the way.

“I don’t like this,” Uncle lowly says as they watch the man for a moment. Karen, Tilly and Mary-beth exchanging worried glances.

(Y/N) looks to the right, lighting up as she spots a nearby saddled horse, the horse a Kentucky saddler with a beige coat and ebony mane. “Uncle, get the girls home. Arthur, come on!” she urges, rushing to the animal.

“Be careful, you two!” Tilly calls with concern.

She mounts the horse in a quick motion, causing it to nicker softly in surprise as she settles her weight. She grabs hold of the reins as Arthur hustles over, the man smoothly mounting on behind her, his arms winding around her waist as she spurs the horse into a gallop.

“Hey! That’s my horse!” the faint, distressed voice of a man calls after them.

“We’ll bring it back! I promise!” (Y/N) yells back over her shoulder, not slowing the animal as she faces ahead once more. “I mean, probably.”

Arthur lets out a deep chuckle at this, though his expression becomes serious once more as he looks ahead. He spots the man veering off the path, (Y/N) noticing this as well as she guides the horse to follow.

“You two stay away from me!” the man yells fearfully. 

“You stop there right now!” Arthur barks back, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. 

(Y/N) steers the horse as she continues to gently tap her heels into its sides, prompting it to keep its galloping pace. They run through an opened barn, chickens squawking fearfully and scattering about as the horses thunder through them.

“Stop!” (Y/N) shouts to the man as they run through the corralled path of the sheep, wincing as the man nearly tramples a worker.

She guides the horse around the worker as he shrieks fearfully, dropping the bale of hay he was carrying as he stumbles out of the path. The man steers off to the right, prompting her to urge the horse to follow. 

“I don’t want no trouble!” the man helplessly yells back. 

“Then you should’a left when we gave you the chance!” (Y/N) answers with irritation, grunting softly as their horse leaps partially down a slanted hill. 

They cut through the field as they approach the man, his morgan seeming to struggle under the man’s frantic urging as it sprints ahead of them a few feet. (Y/N) looks ahead and softly gasps, the man ahead of them looking back at her and not noticing what was in front of him. 

“Hey! Stop!” Arthur barks urgently, spotting the cliff’s edge as well.

The man faces ahead once more as he cries out, urging his horse onward. However, the horse notices the cliff just in time, skidding to a stop with a distressed whinny. The man screams out as he was lurched forward off his horse, landing roughly on the ground and rolling a bit. His form falls over the edge of the cliff, but he manages to grab hold of the cliff’s edge just in time, his legs kicking as he screams fearfully. 

“Shit!” (Y/N) grits out as she urges the horse closer, dismounting smoothly and careful not to hit Arthur.

Arthur swiftly grabs the reins as he scoots forward, tugging the horse to a stop before dismounting as well. 

“Help! I’m slipping!” the man frantically screams, his legs flailing beneath him for purchase.

(Y/N) runs forward and drops onto her stomach, her hand shooting out and grabbing hold of the man’s wrist just as he was about to lose his grip. She wheezes softly and winces at his weight pulling her downward, though she keeps herself upright, her hand not holding him gripping the cliffside.

 Arthur was at her side in less than a second, the man reaching down and grabbing hold of the other man’s arm, the muscle in his forearm flexing as he pulls him upward. However, before he could fully pull him up, he stops, glancing at (Y/N) before looking down at the man with a raised brow.

“Why you tellin’ lies about us?” he questions in a nonchalant drawl, seeming unbothered by the man’s weight as he holds him.

(Y/N) lets out a sharp, baffled and amused scoff, knowing that they had the man at a disadvantage and Arthur was fully planning on exploiting it. 

“N— No! No!” the man hastily denies, panting rapidly as he shakes his head. “I—I— I got it all wrong, partner! I got it very wrong! Now, please, pull me up!” 

Arthur’s eyes narrow, his grip tightening a fraction on the man’s arm. “Me and my wife ain’t never been to Blackwater,” he lowly and slowly growls, emphasising the place.

“Then— Then why are you chasing me?!” the man questions hysterically. 

“Cause, well, you see… we can’t have anyone going around making up lies about us,” (Y/N) calmly and evenly replies, shifting her weight to be more balanced. “You understand that, hmm?”

“I do! I do,” the man agrees readily, nodding. “Now, please! Pull me up!” 

Arthur stares at the man with a steady glare before exhaling deeply, nodding. “Alright, come on,” he grumbles reluctantly. 

He looks to (Y/N) wordlessly, the two working together in a quick motion to easily pull the man up onto the cliff. (Y/N) releases his wrist with an exhale, rising and shaking her hand out as she looks down at the man with a frown. Arthur rises as well and dusts himself off, the horse they’d borrowed grazing on some grass a few paces away with the man’s morgan. The man pants heavily as he lays on his backside, staring up at the sky with wide eyes. 

“You okay, partner?” Arthur questions, staring down at the man with a raised brow.

The man takes a moment, catching his breath. “No,” he answers with a groan, turning onto his hands and knees as he rises. “No, I am not.” He rises fully and dusts himself off, wiping some sweat from his brow. “I’m a mess.”

“Well… I mean, could be worse,” (Y/N) replies positively with a small shrug. “You could be down there.” She motions with her hand to the cliff.

The man braces himself on his knees. “That’s… true,” he manages out, swallowing thickly. He slowly straightens up and looks between the two, offering them a tentative smile and his hand. “Jimmy Brooks.”

(Y/N) glances down at his hand briefly, her eyes then shifting to Arthur. Arthur exhales deeply, shaking his head.

“I think it’s best for all of us if we pretend this never happened,” he tells Jimmy, his tone indicating there was no room for argument.

Jimmy blinks owlishly, but then he nods quickly, retracting his hand. “Oh, I agree.” He pants lightly, clearing his throat. “You two… saved my life. You’re both good people. And I, er… here.”

He digs into his suit pocket, perking up as he pulls out a pen.

“You want a pen? I only got one though, I’m afraid,” he offers, smiling nervously.

“A pen?” (Y/N) repeats with a raised brow, looking down at the writing utensil with interest. 

“It’s one of them steel ones,” Jimmy informs, holding the pen out to the two.

(Y/N) gently bumps her arm into Arthur’s, tilting her head to the pen with encouragement for him to take as her hands rest on the buckle of her belt.

“Oh,” Arthur mumbles softly, reaching out and taking the pen. He looks over the designs on it with interest before tucking it away, nodding. “That’s very kind of you.” His expression hardens. “But I’m not a good man, Jimmy Brooks,” he lowly states. “Not usually. In fact, I only pulled you up because the lady here didn’t seem inclined to let you fall to your death, and I didn’t want to risk her slippin’.”

(Y/N)’s eyes flick to Arthur, her lips pressing together in a tight line as she sighs deeply through her nose. 

“Look, Jimmy,” (Y/N) sighs out as she steps forward, shaking her head. “This man, and I… yeah, we were there. I guess I would kinda stand out in a group of masked men, huh? We kill people. Sometimes, they deserve it. Sometimes they don’t. I didn’t think of you as one who deserved it.” She tilts her head. “But am I wrong, Jimmy Brooks?”

Jimmy’s eyes are wide as he processes her words, the man opening his mouth and closing it for a moment. “U— Uh… no! No, not at all, miss. I… I never saw you! Never saw either of you! Not now, not ever!” he stammers out hastily, smiling shakily. “I think we have an understanding?”

Arthur nods his head with a tense smile, reaching out and firmly patting Jimmy’s shoulder. “Of course we do, Jimmy Brooks,” he calmly replies. “I will remember that.” He reaches up, touching his temple. “I’ve got a good memory.”

Jimmy nervously laughs, backing away a few steps. “I haven’t! I haven’t!” he emphasises, waving his arms as he backs away to his horse. “Not— Not one lick! Not… one sense in this here old mind!” he assures.

(Y/N) can’t help but chuckle under her breath at this, shaking her head with faint amusement as Jimmy scrambles onto his horse. Arthur quietly snorts as they watch the man, Jimmy soothing his horse before spurring it into a trot, guiding it back to the main road.

“You two have a nice day, now!” Jimmy calls over his shoulder, waving to the two with a smile before turning back as he continues on his way.

(Y/N) sighs deeply as she looks up at the sky, noticing how late it had started to become. The day didn’t even feel real at this point, but she did feel exhausted despite also feeling like they hadn’t truly done anything. It would take a bit to get used to their normal, busy schedule, she guessed.

“Well! That was an eventful trip to town,” she declares as she stretches her arms over her head, exhaling with relief. 

“Hosea did say it was quite a day,” Arthur grumbles back deeply, shaking his head and looking to the Kentucky saddler. “C’mon. Let’s get the horse back and check in on the boys.”

“Sounds good to me. Wonder if they found anything worthwhile,” (Y/N) agrees with a nod, the two walking alongside each other towards the horse.

“I doubt it. They just wanted an excuse to drink,” Arthur bluntly responds, earning a laugh from the woman.

(Y/N) grabs hold of the saddle and pulls herself up with a soft grunt, settling her weight and gazing down at Arthur. Her features soften as she watches him, Arthur noticing her staring and pausing just as he went to mount up. His brow raises in silent question, her hand reaching out and her fingers gently grazing his cheekbone, the man inhaling sharply and quietly at the touch.

“You know… you are a good man, Arthur,” she quietly and earnestly says, allowing her touch to linger. “Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not… you’ve got a good heart. I see it. And I see the way you try to excuse helping others as something you do only for me.” She shakes her head. “You help others because you’ve got good inside you. Plain and simple.”

With that, (Y/N) withdraws her hand, her fingertips tingling as she clears her throat. Her cheeks feel warm as she grabs hold of the reins, waiting patiently for the man to mount up behind her. Arthur remains still for a few moments, the man processing her words. His chest tightens, a deep sigh leaving him as he looks downward.

“Kind… Kind of you to think so, darlin’,” he quietly replies, his tone indicating he didn’t quite believe her words, but was still touched.

Arthur mounts up behind her, his brow furrowed in deep thought as (Y/N) guides the horse forward and back onto the main road. His arms encircle her waist tentatively as he allows his frame to press into her own, though he was ready to back off at any given moment if she showed any signs of being uncomfortable. But to his surprise, she leans back into him, seeming unbothered by the action and even encouraging it.

His heart was racing like he’d been running instead of the horse, and his hand twitched with a strong urge to write as he quickly flexed it to keep it from fidgeting. It was easier to write than it was trying to sort out the jumbled mess of spinning thoughts in his head. He always did wish he was as articulate with his emotions in person as he was on paper. It helped him to think his feelings out further, to get a hold of them to keep him from allowing himself to feel something stupid. But he knew it was too late. 

He was completely gone for the woman sitting in front of him, and there was nothing he could do, or want to do, to stop it. 

Chapter Text

The sun had nearly completely set in the distance by the time the pair had returned to Valentine, the man they’d borrowed the horse from delighted and grateful for the return of his companion, and, of course, surprised as well. It wasn’t often one’s horse was taken by strangers and returned. A few clouds had gathered overhead in the darkened sky as the moon rose slowly, wind picking up as well— signs that rain was no doubt approaching. The roads had mostly cleared out, though a few folks still roamed, lanterns now lit to light the main road.

“Still think we should’ve sold the horse,” Arthur comments as he watches the man ride off on his horse, a big smile on the man’s face.

(Y/N) softly snorts at this. “Oh, yes. For what, five dollars?” she questions with amusement, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t have been worth it. Besides, I said we’d return it.”

“You also said ‘probably’,” Arthur points out, shrugging his shoulders as he rests his hands on his belt. His eyes flick to the woman, a stifled sigh leaving him. “But it was kind that you did.”

Her lips tug into a small smile. “We did, Arthur,” she corrects, the two walking side by side along the muddy road. “Besides, I know I’d want someone to… return my horse, if they borrowed it.” Her eyes avert down, a hint of sadness in them.

Arthur’s features soften at this, the man keeping his pace slowed for her as they walk. “How’d it go? Lookin’ at the horses in the stables, I mean,” he questions gently, his eyes flicking to a few boisterous men nearby warily as he steps closer to the woman, the protective gesture subconscious.

A sigh leaves (Y/N). “Eh. None really… caught my eye. It’s okay. Maybe I… can try again some other day,” she replies, her voice tinged with disappointment and indifference.

Arthur softly grunts at this. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he mumbles sympathetically, observing her disappointment with a frown. He perks up, his attention shifting to his satchel as he digs inside, pulling out the bag of candy he’d purchased for her.

He opens his mouth before he shuts it, exhaling softly before awkwardly holding out the bag of candy to the woman. (Y/N)’s eyes flick to the motion before her brows raise with surprise, her previous expression lighting up to one of delighted surprise.

“Oh! You… You got me candy?” she questions with delight, reaching out and taking the bag slowly and carefully. Her lips pull into a wide, happy smile, a gentle laugh leaving her. “How sweet! Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur straightens up, his chest puffing out a bit at having caused her delighted reaction. Heat creeps along his cheeks, the man nodding stiffly. “Was nothin’.”

“No. It means a lot to me,” (Y/N) disagrees as she shakes her head, tucking the candy into her bag. She steps closer to the man and takes his hand, slowing them both to a stop as she squeezes his palm gently. “Really. Thank you.”

Arthur’s eyes snap down to her hand holding his own, her skin feeling warm and soft against his own. His gaze slowly lifts to her own, his heart clenching oddly in his chest.

“Of course,” he mumbles, his voice a bit rougher than normal. He clears his throat as she releases his hand, feeling a sense of disappointment that he tries to push past quickly. “Got some other things, too. Provisions, for when we get out there and camp out.”

(Y/N) nods at this, her hand lowering to her satchel as she pats it. “And I got us some ammo and gun oil. We’re quite the efficient team, aren’t we, Mr. Morgan?” she states lightheartedly, grinning.

Arthur grunts in response with a faint smirk, fondly rolling his eyes as the two continue on their way. “Sure,” he agrees in a drawl, amusement in his voice.

(Y/N) smiles at this as her eyes shift ahead, and she instantly recognizes the horses currently hitched outside of the saloon. Taima stood tall as she occasionally looked around, her tail flicking behind her occasionally. She notices the two, her ears perking forward as she whinnies softly, her attention returning ahead of her. Brown Jack, Bill’s horse, a deep brown Ardennes with long hair along his thick legs, stood beside her, restlessly pawing at the ground. Javier’s horse, Boaz, was alongside Brown Jack, the horse shifting and nickering lightly.

“Looks like the guys are still at the saloon.” She nods ahead to the horses.

Arthur looks ahead with a hint of surprise, the man snorting softly. “They’ve been here gamblin’ and drinkin’ the whole day,” he mumbles with amusement, seeming mildly impressed. “They’re gonna feel it pretty hard in the mornin’. Losin’ their money and the headache.”

(Y/N) smiles at this as a laugh leaves her, Arthur allowing her to walk ahead of him as the two enter the saloon, his eyes scanning behind him before he follows. The upbeat melody of the piano man’s playing fills the building, along with boisterous chatter and lively conversations between the people inside. It was packed, men gambling at a few tables, others drinking at the bars, and some enjoying meals or the company of working ladies.

Javier stood at the end of the bar, the bartender currently wiping away at a glass with his rag. Charles was with the man, his large frame leaning heavily on the bar and both men noticeably drunk, though they still seemed surprisingly alert. Two women were with them, one a ginger with fair skin and freckles and striking blue eyes and the other a raven haired woman with light tawny skin, her eyes a deep brown as well.

(Y/N)’s brow twitches at the sight, the woman sighing deeply and shaking her head with exasperated amusement. “Oh, joy. Not only are they completely drunk, but they have company, too,” she mutters under her breath.

“Great,” Arthur grumbles, shaking his head.

The four at the bar exclaim as they lift up their shot glasses, downing them quickly afterwards and setting them back down onto the bar for the bartender to clean.

Javier looks over his shoulder briefly, his expression lighting up almost comically at the sight of the two. He turns, his arms lifting and outstretching on either side of him in a clumsy, greeting manner. “Ah, Arthur! (Y/N)! Come here! Come!” he eagerly calls. “I want you to meet our friends.”

A sigh leaves (Y/N), her brow slightly furrowed and her lips pressing together in a thin line as she and Arthur approach. She can practically feel the judgement in the way the two ladies look at her, their eyes instantly drawn to the pants she was wearing with a mixture of disdain and surprise. (Y/N) doesn’t shy away, but she doesn’t appreciate their scrutiny, giving the two a narrow-eyed stare as she comes to a stop. The ginger haired woman clears her throat as she looks to Javier, the dark haired woman looking away as well as she leans her back on the bar.

Javier steps closer and pats Arthur’s shoulder, bringing him closer as (Y/N) lingers back, her arms folded over her chest and her expression soured.

“Pleased to meet you,” Arthur dryly mumbles in a monotone, his eyes flicking back to (Y/N).

The woman with ginger hair eyes Arthur appraisingly, her gaze slowly travelling along his form. “Well, ain’t you just the tough as teak mountain?” she purrs.

(Y/N) feels a strange, tightening sensation in her chest, her jaw clenching as she bristles, lowering her arms from their folded position over her chest. Her heart begins to hammer as her fist clenches at her side, her eyes narrowing further as she scowls.

“Oh, you be quiet, Anastasia,” the woman with dark hair chimes in. “Anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat,” she seductively coos, both giggling.

Arthur’s eyebrow raises as he shifts his weight on his feet, his expression hardening.

“Exactly! Yes, he’s a pussy… cat,” Javier agrees, his words somewhat slowed due to his current state. “Ain’t that so, Arthur?”

“Whatever you say.” Arthur scoffs quietly, shaking his head. He steps a small step back to join (Y/N)’s side, looking at the two women with obvious disinterest. “How much you cost, anyway?”

(Y/N)’s eyes snap to the man and widen a fraction, and she has to swallow down a laugh at his bluntness. She shifts a small step closer to him, giving the woman a brief glance. Rain starts outside, the drops softly pattering against the window of the saloon.

“Well, ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady?” Anastasia demands, turning her nose up.

“Oh, I didn’t know I was talkin’ to a lady,” Arthur replies with quick wit, making his voice exaggerated as hers had been.

This time, (Y/N) wasn’t able to hold back the chortle that leaves her, her hand covering her mouth as her eyes avert down. Arthur smirks at the two women, his eyes flicking to (Y/N) and lingering on her as he gently bumps his arm into her own. She lifts her head, smiling at the man as that tight feeling in her chest dissipates, replaced with warmth and something else that makes her heart race.

Anastasia scowls at this as her cheeks become red with indignation, the woman pushing off the bar. “Excuse me.”

Javier stammers with protest as she saunters off in a huff, her friend sighing before she starts to follow. Charles grabs her arm longingly, causing her to slow for a brief moment. However, she pulls away with a huff, continuing after her friend as Charles allows his hand to limply fall, the man leaning heavily on the bar in his drunk state.

Javier sighs loudly with disappointment. “Well, I have to say… you got a fine way with the women, amigo.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at this, stepping closer to the bar and motioning to himself and (Y/N). “Yeah, a regular dandy and charmer,” he sarcastically drawls, earning a chuckle from Javier.

He takes the shot glasses as the bartender sets them down, holding one out to (Y/N). She smiles with a nod of thanks, downing the alcohol in a quick motion and exhaling deeply, the liquid burning her throat pleasantly. She leans around Arthur to set the glass down, her frame turning to lean against the bar as she looks between Javier and Charles.

“I see you boys have been busy gettin’ us leads that’ll no doubt have us drowning in riches,” (Y/N) comments with dry sarcasm, glancing around for a brief moment. She frowns as she notices a few men looking at her— or, more specifically, her legs—and she feels a flare of annoyance. “Ain’t they ever seen pants before?” she grumbles irritably, stepping closer to Arthur to partially hide beside the man.

Arthur straightens up as he glances over, noticing the men looking their way. He gives them a sharp glare as he slams his shot glass down, causing several to turn back to their conversations or poker hands.

“Ah, bella, don’t mind them!” Javier cheerfully replies, nudging his elbow into her own with a charming grin. “They’re just simple-minded fools in awe of the sight of your beauty,” he flirts shamelessly, giving her a wink.

Arthur’s frame tenses beside (Y/N) at the words, his eyes snapping to Javier and narrowing in warning, though the drunk man doesn’t seem to notice. Javier attempts to be suave as he leans his elbow on the bar, but his elbow slips off the edge of the bar. He stumbles and laughs, quickly correcting his footing.

(Y/N) gives Javier a pointed, raised brow stare, knowing his drunkenness was no doubt contributing to his behavior. “Sure,” she sarcastically replies, shaking her head.

A surprised sound leaves her as Arthur’s hand grabs her shoulder gently, the man guiding her to the other side of him next to Charles rather than Javier. He steps into the space to block Javier’s view of her, Javier snorting and rolling his eyes as he grumbles under his breath. Charles lazily looks at (Y/N), blinking slowly as his brow furrows.

“Oh. Hey. When’d you get here?” Charles asks, his voice soft and confused as he leans on the bar beside her.

(Y/N) releases an amused, exasperated breath. “Oh, Mr. Smith,” she mumbles sympathetically at his drunk state.

“Where’s Bill?” Arthur demands roughly, still annoyed by Javier’s behavior.

“Oh, man. I dread to think about it,” Javier jokes with a wheezy giggle, downing another shot. He glances back, perking up as he pats Arthur’s arm several times, earning an annoyed glare from him. “Hey, hey, hey, there he is!”

(Y/N) and the others look to the entrance just in time to see Bill running into another man, Bill clearly having more than a few drinks as he sways on his feet. His round cheeks were rosy red and his movements were clumsy, the man exclaiming in anger.

“Watch where you’re goin’!” Bill growls, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt.

“Hey, take it easy, pal!” the man tries to defuse, his hands raised in surrender.

Charles straightens up slowly, his brow raising. “He about to kiss that guy or punch him?”

(Y/N) softly snorts at this, shaking her head. Before she can reply, Bill swings at the man, striking his cheek and knocking him to the floor.

“Oh! And we have our answer!” Javier joyously exclaims, pushing off the bar and rushing over.

Charles lets out a surprising, uncharacteristic boisterous laugh as he rushes in as well, (Y/N) sighing and looking to the ceiling with exasperation. The entire saloon breaks out into chaos, Charles grabbing a chair and throwing it with a shout—though he throws it in the opposite direction of the commotion—and he lunges at a man, Javier taking on two other men as Bill is punched down by another. Playing cards and chips scatter as the men playing poker bolt to their feet, a few women and men disappearing upstairs to escape the fight.

Arthur’s eyes snap to a man eyeing him and approaching aggressively, a low, annoyed growl leaving his chest as he pushes off the bar. (Y/N) looks over with boredom as Arthur moves in front of her before advancing on the man, the woman making her way around the bar to one of the stools. She lowers onto one of them and sits comfortably, the bartender watching with dismay as his saloon was trashed in the brawl.

Arthur shoves the man back as he squares his shoulders, dodging back a small step as a punch was thrown his way. He circles the man, blocking an incoming strike to his ribs and shoving the man away once more. His eyes flick to (Y/N) instinctively, and he notices her eyes watching him, the woman seeming content enough as she eats one of candies Arthur had gotten for her, the small bag held gently in her lap.

He grunts with surprise as his jaw was punched while he had been distracted, causing his head to jerk to the side as he stumbled back a small step. His eyes sharpen as he rears his elbow, colliding it into the man’s own jaw in retaliation. His frame straightens up as his heart pounds, and he feels a strong sense of motivation and is emboldened, knowing (Y/N) was watching him.

“Break it up, all of you!” the bartender helplessly pleas, groaning and shaking his head as he looks around with dismay.

Arthur dodges a series of punches swung his direction with precision, not wanting to be caught off guard as he had been before. He jerks back before swinging his fist out with steady aim, his fist striking the man’s temple. The man’s head jerks to the side, his frame going limp as he collapses onto the floor, knocked out cold. The man pants softly before looking back to (Y/N) as he straightens up, (Y/N) giving him a smile and impressed nod of acknowledgement.

Arthur nods in return, but inside, his heart was racing and he felt a sense of satisfaction and pride. His eyes dart to two men facing off Charles, and while the man was holding his own well enough, he figured he’d lend a hand. He moves in quickly, grabbing hold of one of the men and yanking him away from Charles, the two then squaring off.

(Y/N) sighs softly to herself at the commotion as she munches on another candy, her eyes flicking to the side as she spots a man rushing to Arthur. Her eyes narrow and she sticks her foot out, causing the man to trip over it with a yelp and flail as he lands on the floor roughly.

He turns to her with a snarl on the floor, only to be met with a swift kick to his face by the woman. The man cries out in pain, his form slumping on the floor as he shifts a bit, obviously disoriented from the kick to his nose.

“Stay down,” she tells him in a bored monotone, keeping her boot against his face as she continues watching the scene around her.

“What the hell is going on down here?!” a voice thunders from upstairs, causing the woman to straighten up with alarm.

(Y/N) quickly tucks the nearly empty bag of candy into her bag, the woman rising from the bar stool and looking to the stairs with wide eyes as a large, intimidating man comes stomping down in a fury. He was taller than Arthur by an inch or so—something rare— and he was bigger as well, his arms thick and his stomach rounded with a beer belly. His head was balding and his hair lined the back of his head, a thick beard along his face.

“No, Tommy!” the bartender hastily and frantically calls with distress. “Stay outta this!”

Tommy ignores the bartender, his eyes locking onto Javier as he sneers. “Come here, you little greaser!”

Javier bristles at the insult, his eyes narrowing sharply. He charges at the man and swings, only for Tommy to dodge backwards and deliver a swift punch himself. Arthur looks over with a scowl as he moves to help him, but before he could, a chair was slammed down onto him from behind.

Arthur exclaims in both surprise and pain as he stumbles, the sound gaining (Y/N)’s attention as her head snaps over to him. She jerks back as Tommy and Javier’s brawling nears her, the woman swiftly dodging around them before rushing towards Arthur, the man who’d slammed the chair onto him grappling him from behind with his arms locked around his neck.

(Y/N) circles around the struggling pair and delivers a kick to the back of the man’s knee, causing his leg to give out from under him. She sharply punches his side and grabs hold of the collar of his shirt, yanking it back firmly so the fabric chokes him. This causes him to lose his grip on Arthur, who elbows the man in the ribs in a strong motion, the man wheezing loudly in agony as he fully releases Arthur.

“Go help Javier!” (Y/N) tells Arthur urgently, her grip tightening on the man’s shirt as she nods.

Arthur hesitates before nodding in return as he catches his breath, his eyes darting to Tommy and Javier. Javier was at an obvious disadvantage due to not only being smaller, but being drunk, the man’s movements sloppy as he grappled with Tommy. (Y/N) looks around before throwing the man she was holding at a nearby table, the man exclaiming as he crashes onto the wooden surface. The table collapses with the man, the man remaining down and groaning in pain.

“Hey! Tough guy!” Arthur snarls, rushing at Tommy from behind.

Arthur delivers a punch to the back of Tommy’s head, and the man hardly seems to feel it, his head only jolting partially from the punch. Tommy roughly throws Javier aside, his eyes narrowed as he turns to Arthur slowly.

“Arthur!” (Y/N) calls apprehensively as she starts towards the two, ready to help.

“Don’t!” Arthur gruffly barks, his voice both hardened and worried as he spares a quick glance her way.

This was all Tommy needed to punch Arthur across the jaw, stunning him momentarily. Tommy grabs the front of Arthur’s shirt, Arthur shaking his head out and grunting as he is thrown across a wooden table near the piano, his frame rolling off it roughly as the table collapses from the weight. Arthur winces as he breathes heavily, his hat knocked off his head and residing on the floor near him.

“You want some too, huh?!” Tommy demands mockingly, charging at Arthur, who was now trying to rise.

Tommy grabs hold of Arthur’s shoulder and his suspenders attached to the back of his pants, the man lifting Arthur and hurling him towards the window with a roar. Arthur goes flying through the window, landing roughly outside on the wooden boardwalk before rolling off with the momentum, landing on the mud of the main road.

“Arthur!” (Y/N) shouts, her voice higher pitched with alarm and worry.

-

Arthur groans softly as he shakes his head out, his ears faintly ringing and some glass flinging from his hair. A few people, overhearing the commotion, emerge from their homes, a crowd slowly forming. Rain pours from the night sky, thunder softly bellowing as lightning occasionally flickers along the clouds.

“Wanna look tough for the lady, huh, pretty boy?” Tommy calls mockingly, sauntering out of the saloon with a wide, malicious smirk.

A flare of defensiveness fills Arthur, the man’s jaw clenching as his teeth grind together. “Pretty boy?” he repeats with indignation, his voice raspy. “You’re kiddin’ me!” he growls.

Arthur swiftly rises to his feet as he lifts his fists defensively, his eyes watching Tommy approaching like a hawk. The people around them watch with interest and excited murmurs, several women gasping as Tommy makes the first move.

Tommy swings at Arthur, Arthur dodging back before grabbing the man’s shoulders, his knee lifting as he slams it into Tommy’s kidney. He shoves the man back, Tommy wheezing faintly and clutching at his side for a moment in pain.

“Kill that peabrain, Morgan!” Bill calls as he exits the saloon, adjusting his hat as he grins widely.

Arthur feels a flicker of irritation towards Bill for having caused this mess, Arthur side-stepping Tommy’s punch and kicking the man’s calf roughly. Tommy stumbles forward with an infuriated growl, clutching his leg as he limps lightly before facing Arthur once more.

“You won’t be so pretty when I’m done!” Tommy mocks, his fists raised as he scowls furiously.

Javier limps out while rubbing at his jaw, the man huffing softly as he folds his arms over his chest while watching the scene. (Y/N) exits alongside Charles clutching Arthur’s hat to her chest, her eyes full of worry as she watches Arthur and Tommy circle one.

Tommy’s movements were aggressive and bold, Arthur’s calculated and more controlled as the two exchanged blows, the rain soaking the mud beneath their boots and making them lose their footing more often due to the unsteady surface. Tommy blocks a strike from Arthur, delivering a punch into the man’s gut, Arthur doubling over with a soft wheeze before recovering swiftly to dodge another strike.

-

“I should help,” (Y/N) grumbles to herself anxiously as she holds Arthur’s hat close, biting her lower lip as she shifts her weight restlessly. She’s surprised by a hand on her shoulder, her eyes snapping to the owner of it and widening with surprise that it had been Charles.

“Arthur can handle it,” Charles reassures in a gentle voice, the buzz of the alcohol seeming to have worn off the man. He lowers his hand from her shoulder, leaning against the railing of the saloon as he watches the two men.

A sigh leaves (Y/N), and she nods. “I… I know he can. I just…”

-

Arthur pants softly as he moves around Tommy, swiftly striking the man’s side. Tommy grunts at this before slamming his fist down, striking Arthur’s head and causing the man to stumble back. He turns his head, spitting blood from his mouth and wiping at his lip, his teeth bared in pain. His head snaps up, his eyes widening as Tommy swings his way.

-

(Y/N) winces as Arthur was punched, the man stumbling a bit from the force as the crowd exclaims sympathetically, some of the people cheering for Tommy.

“I don’t like it when he gets hurt,” (Y/N) quietly finishes, her grip tightening on his hat.

Charles looks at the woman, frowning thoughtfully and sighing through his nose. “Why don’t you cheer him on?” he suggests quietly. “Hearing someone… who is important to you, cheer for you... it’s a hell of a motivator,” he hints, nodding towards Arthur.

(Y/N) looks at Charles at this, her features softening for a moment as she considers his words.

-

Arthur corrects his footing as his ear rings from the punch, the man whipping to Tommy with a scowl. He breathes heavily as he looks over Tommy, his hands clenched at his sides and his steps light as they circle one another once more. His head was pounding and he could taste his blood from biting his tongue, his body sore where Tommy had punched and his knuckles beginning to ache. The rain was getting in his eyes and he felt disoriented, the crowd around him making his head hurt and feel like he was cornered.

“Get him, Arthur!” (Y/N)’s voice cuts through the crowd of the voices around him, her voice hardened and full of encouragement. “He’s got nothin’ on you! You’re the best damn brawler I’ve ever seen! Show him!”

Arthur’s head whips to the sound and he spots (Y/N) standing at the entrance of the saloon, the woman clutching his hat as she smiles at him with a firm nod of encouragement. The sight causes something to stir in his chest, his breathing evening out as the voices of the crowd around him become muted to his ears, his focus on her and her alone. His adrenaline begins to pump through his veins, confidence filling him from her encouragement as nods in return, his lips tugging into a rugged smirk.

Tommy charges at Arthur as the man is distracted, but the truth is, he is anything but. Arthur smoothly steps out of the man’s path, turning to him with an intense, chilling glare as his leg lifts. He collides his knee into Tommy’s side—the same side he’d been wailing on and building up pain in—earning a satisfying cry of agony from the man.

“That’s it!” (Y/N) laughs giddily, her face lighting up. “You got him, Arthur! Take him down!”

Tommy whips to Arthur with a snarl, only to be met with a punch to the jaw, causing his brain to rattle in his skull. This stuns Tommy, Arthur lunging at the man and the two going tussling down to the ground. Mud coats the two’s clothing and part of Arthur’s face as they wrestle with one another, Arthur noticing Tommy quickly becoming exhausted. Arthur uses this to his advantage as he scrambles up and clamors onto the large man, quickly gaining the upper hand over him.

Arthur grabs onto Tommy’s shirt as he pins the man down using his weight, Tommy grabbing at Arthur’s wrist holding him down as he flails beneath the man weakly, losing his strength with his growing exhaustion. A few in the crowd ‘boo’ or exclaim in anger due to having bet on Tommy, but others cheer, their chatter all lively and chaotic.

Arthur rears his fist back, and deals devastating blows down on Tommy, lighting flashing across the sky and the thunder following rumbling across the land. Tommy attempts to fight back, but after the first few blows, his reactions slow severely. His hand hovers uselessly, his other weakly gripping Arthur’s wrist. Tommy tries to punch towards Arthur, but misses by a few inches, his eyes seeming to dart around wildly with confusion in a dizzy daze as he struggles to concentrate on Arthur.

Arthur strikes at Tommy until his knuckles bleed, Tommy’s face bruised and bloodied and nearly unrecognizable. Arthur’s chest heaves as he remains seated on Tommy, his fist reared back as he glares down at the man. The crowd had begun to quiet down, many murmuring with shock and some looking unsettled by the sight. A man stuck in the back of the crowd was calling, pleading for Arthur to stop, fits of coughing leaving him as he does so.

Arthur pants heavily as his fist trembles with exhaustion, his jaw clenching as the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins starts to dissipate. His wild-eyed expression was a familiar, dangerous one, one men at his mercy often saw right before they died by his hand. He catches a glimpse of (Y/N) in his peripheral vision, which gives him pause, his head turning to fully look at the woman.

She watches him with a storm of emotions flickering along her expression, but the most prominent ones seem to be torn between what seemed to be satisfaction, relief and uncertainty. Her (E/C) eyes watch him, and she seems to be gauging how far the man will go, her brows furrowed and her jaw tightened.

His eyes flick down to Tommy briefly, then back to (Y/N), his eyes meeting her own as he searches for… he isn’t even sure. Acceptance? Understanding? Fear? He knows she has seen him kill often in the past over things for less, but this felt different. Something inside of him felt like it was starting to change without him even knowing or fully understanding why. He’d felt it ever since Blackwater, maybe even before then. And he knew for a fact it’d break his heart if (Y/N) was afraid of him.

To his surprise and relief, (Y/N) offers him a softened, familiar smile as she tilts her head—a silent indication that whatever he does, she’s still with him. The rain above begins to slow to a drizzle, the thunder silencing as the clouds slowly move on.

A deep breath leaves Arthur, his breathing slowly evening out as he looks down at Tommy. He grits his teeth, his fist slowly unclenching before he pushes himself off the man, exhaling roughly. The crowd murmurs with a mixture of surprise and relief, a frail man stumbling forward. The frail man coughs violently as he rushes to Tommy’s aid, Arthur scoffing at the sight and turning away as he strides confidently towards where (Y/N) stood.

Arthur shoves through the crowd as he rubs at his jaw, the man coming to a stop a few paces in front of (Y/N), Charles, Javier and Bill lingering a few paces away to give the two a moment. He looks up at her, his gaze significantly softened and his eyes holding a hint of uncertainty. His posture was slouched, as if he was making himself less intimidating in her presence, his hair clinging to his forehead from the rain and mud caked on his face and clothing.

(Y/N) lets out a gentle sigh through her nose, her lips tugging into a fond smile at the sight of the man. “I knew you’d win,” she softly praises, nodding her head with approval. “C’mere, big guy.”

Arthur’s eyes widen a small fraction and the relief that fills him is almost overwhelming, the man swallowing thickly as he slowly steps forward. (Y/N) steps down to meet him, grasping his hand gently, mindful of his knuckles. She guides him up the steps and away from the others, her other hand holding his hat close to her chest as she leads him to the bench in front of the General Store.

He allows her to lead him, the man’s eyes flicking downward and lingering on the sight of her hand holding his. Her hand, holding the same one he’d just used to beat a man half to death with. It felt wrong. She deserved better.

And yet, he selfishly couldn’t force himself to pull his hand away. His fingers twitch before slowly curling around her hand, holding onto her as if she were his one lifeline in this cruel world. The rain had stopped as quickly as it came, some rainwater dripping from the rooftops and onto the muddy ground with soft patters.

“Look at you! You’re a mess,” (Y/N) playfully chides as she guides him to the bench, urging the man to sit down slowly and steadily. “I think Miss Grimshaw would pass out if she saw you like this!”

She laughs softly, setting his hat on the bench beside him as she takes her rag out from her satchel. Arthur lets out a husky, deep chuckle, the man’s eyes shutting for a brief moment as (Y/N) wipes the mud from his face.

“Keepin’ clean wasn’t exactly… my priority while fightin’, darlin’,” Arthur informs with a hint of amusement, his voice a bit raspy and breathless.

(Y/N) snorts at this as she grins, wiping the mud from his jaw and cheek carefully. “Yeah, I can see this. You, good sir, are going to take a bath. No ifs, ands, or buts about it,” she tells him in a firm yet not unkind manner.

Her palm cups the unbruised side of his jaw, Arthur’s eyes fluttering shut briefly as he leans into her touch. (Y/N) feels her heart clench at the sight as her smile grows, the woman allowing her thumb to gently caress his cheek as she wipes at the mud along his forehead.

“Making new friends again I see, Arthur!” a posh, familiar voice calls, startling the two.

Arthur’s eyes snap open as (Y/N) withdraws her hand quickly, a flicker of disappointment flashing through her eyes as she looks over her shoulder. She’s surprised by the sight of Dutch approaching with Josiah Trelawny, a well-groomed man that stood a few inches shorter than Dutch. The man had dark hair that was covered in pomade to keep it neat beneath his black top hat, the man’s skin fair and a moustache decorating his upper lip, the ends of the moustache curled. He wore a clean suit, and frankly, he stuck out like a sore thumb standing in the mud beside Dutch.

“Look who we found sniffing about!” Dutch calls with amusement, gesturing back to Josiah.

“Well, if it ain’t Josiah Trelawny,” (Y/N) greets with surprise as she smiles, shaking her rag out to the side and tucking it into her satchel.

Josiah grins, bowing dramatically. “The one and only, my lady!”

Arthur chuckles at this as he nods in greeting, his hand resting on his knee. “I thought you’d gone to New York,” he calls questioningly.

Josiah gasps playfully, his arms lifting as he motions around. “And miss all this glamour?” he questions. “You must be joking!”

Arthur rises with a soft grunt as he rubs at his aching jaw, his mouth parting as he stretches it gently and strolls closer. (Y/N) observes Arthur with worry, hovering close to the man as she grabs his hat for him, clutching it gently.

“How are you?” Arthur asks, sighing deeply as he makes his way down onto the road to be even level with the two men.

“Well. Quite well, indeed,” Josiah replies with a nod, him and Dutch moving closer. “I went to Blackwater, looking for you gentlemen. Ah, and lady, of course,” he adds, giving (Y/N) a playful wink as she huffs with amusement.

Dutch’s brows furrow as he notices the bruising on Arthur’s face, his head tilting as he scans his features in a fussing manner. Arthur notices and lifts a hand in a dismissive manner to indicate he was fine, though he does stumble a small step. This prompts (Y/N) to forcefully guide Arthur to sit on the steps, earning a half-hearted grumble of protest as he obliges.

She lowers with him as she takes her rag out, wincing as she begins to dab away at the blood along the corner of Arthur’s split lip. Dutch rests his hands on his knees as he lowers, his eyes glinting with concern as he examines Arthur’s injuries.

“You’re not very popular there, it seems,” Josiah continues, shaking his head.

“Where are we popular?” (Y/N) questions rhetorically, her lips tugged up in a faint, amused smile.

Javier, noticing Dutch’s presence, makes his way over, Bill and Charles following suit. Josiah notices their approach, his smile growing as he turns to them.

“Ah, Javier and Charles!” Josiah greets cheerfully as Dutch straightens up, Javier rubbing his aching jaw as he nods. “I’ve missed you!”

Javier leans against the light post, Charles coming to a stop and folding his arms over his chest with a stoic nod, the man seeming to not be injured. Bill hobbles in after them, holding his upper thigh as he limps lightly.

“And Bill! Looking as well as can be,” Josiah adds with a chuckle, Bill smiling with a nod. “Gentlemen and my dear lady, it’s always a pleasure!” He bows once more, nodding.

“You’re right, we ain’t too popular in Blackwater,” Dutch belatedly mumbles to Josiah’s words, sighing deeply.

“We left a lot of money there,” Arthur chimes in, turning his head towards (Y/N) as she wipes at the mud along his jaw.

Josiah’s eyes crinkle at this. “And young Sean it seems.”

(Y/N) looks up at this, her brows lifting with surprise as she slowly pulls the rag away from Arthur’s face. Dutch seems equally surprised and relieved, the man turning to Josiah with widened eyes.

“Sean?” Dutch repeats with a hint of disbelief. “You’ve found him?”

Josiah straightens up, nodding confidently. “Yes, I have. He is being held by some bounty hunters trying to see how much money the government will pay them.”

The news catches the group off guard, each one of them having assumed the worst about Sean. Dutch’s eyes are narrowed, calculating, as he takes in Josiah’s words, his lips pressing together in a scowl.

“I know he’s in Blackwater, but there’s talk of them moving in a few days,” Josiah finishes.

Arthur sighs at this, his hand still cradling his jaw. “Well, if we step foot in Blackwater…” He pauses as he applies pressure to his jaw, earning a faint pop from it as he groans lowly in pain before exhaling with relief. “Well, then we’re dead men for sure.”

(Y/N) rises as she tucks her rag away once more, Arthur grunting softly as he rises as well.

“He’s right. As much as I want to go after Sean, I don’t see how we can,” (Y/N) agrees with worry, shaking her head.

Dutch sighs deeply through his nose, his brow pinched together. “There’ll be Pinkertons all over the place, but… if he’s alive, we gotta try.”

Arthur sighs, exchanging a glance with (Y/N). “Yeah, of course.”

Josiah looks down grimly, his eyes flicking to Dutch. “It’s you they want, Dutch,” he reminds lowly.

Dutch scoffs lightly, clearly not surprised. “It always is,” he mutters indifferently, turning to the others. “Charles, go find out what you can. Carefully.”

Charles nods at this, the man turning and briskly making his way to Taima.

“Josiah, take Javier, find out more on the whereabouts of Sean,” Dutch continues, making Josiah bow as Javier nods, the two heading to their horses. “Send word to Arthur and (Y/N) once you’re ready to actually move in,” Dutch calls after them, lifting his brows. “And you know the drill, address it to Mr. and Mrs. Tacitus and (Alias) Kilgore.”

“Sure thing,” Javier agrees readily over his shoulder, ever the loyal one.

“I figured Arthur and I could stay the night in town. Get cleaned up and well rested,” (Y/N) tells Dutch as she steps closer, a faint smile on her lips.

Dutch nods with approval, the man reaching out and squeezing her shoulder in a fatherly gesture. “Sounds good. You’ve both certainly earned it, being strong when the others couldn’t on that mountain.”

Arthur straightens up a fraction at the praise, (Y/N) feeling a mixture of pride and a flicker of guilt. She hadn’t felt strong. She allowed her fear to cloud her judgement, and she had doubted Dutch. It was only for a moment, but even now she still feels unease in the back of her mind. It was becoming quieter as time went on and they got their footing, but it was still there, nonetheless. She manages a small smile as she nods, Dutch lowering his hand from her shoulder with a warm smile.

“I brought Arthur’s horse from camp and hitched it up,” Dutch tells the two, motioning over to where the horse was currently hitched in front of the hotel. “Figured you two wouldn’t relish in havin’ to walk back to camp,” he adds jokingly.

(Y/N) lets out a faint laugh. “I hadn’t even thought of it.” She hadn’t, but now she realized it— they had sent Uncle home ahead with the ladies and would’ve had no way to get back to camp or anywhere else. “Thank you, Dutch.”

“Appreciate it,” Arthur chimes in gratefully, nodding his head.

“Of course,” Dutch cheerfully replies as he nods in return, sighing deeply as he rests his hands on his hips. “I’m going to head back to camp. Keep out of trouble. No more brawls, please.” He gives a pointed look at Arthur, who has the decency to sheepishly smile.

“I didn’t start it,” Arthur defends with a raspy chuckle.

(Y/N) softly laughs at this as she bumps her elbow into his arm, her arm then winding around his own as the two make their way along the muddy path to the hotel.

“What about me?” the voice of Bill questions, the man stepping towards Dutch.

Dutch sighs sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Well, exactly. What about you?” he demands harshly.

Bill blink, his brow furrowing as he frowns. “Wh— What does that mean?”

Dutch groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ah, Bill. Come on,” he grumbles with exasperation, motioning to Brown Jack.

(Y/N) and Arthur continue on their way, (Y/N) hovering close to Arthur as she watches him closely.

“I’m fine, (Y/N),” Arthur insists as he glances her way with fond exasperation, causing her to hum suspiciously.

“Okay,” she acknowledges, though she makes no move to stop. “Just… makin’ sure. You got hit pretty hard a few times.”

Arthur sighs deeply at her fussing, but he knows it was futile to protest against her. He reaches out and tugs the door to the hotel opened with his muddied hand, nodding for her to enter first. She eyes Arthur closely before slowly obliging, Arthur entering after her as the hotel clerk looks up.

“Oh! It’s you two,” he greets with a hint of pleasant surprise, rising from his chair behind the counter. “Had the Sheriff pick up that fella earlier. Apparently there were quite a few complaints about him from the women in the saloon. He told me to tell you he appreciated you handling him,” he tells the two with a faint smile.

Arthur only grunts in response, the hotel manager eyeing his muddied form with a mixture of mild disgust and distress as his boots dirty the floor.

“Happy to have helped,” (Y/N) says with a small smile, nodding.

The hotel manager nods in return, his eyes flicking to her. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“Well.” (Y/N) approaches the desk and sighs, motioning back to Arthur. “As you can see, my friend here’s in dire need of a bath.”

Arthur’s brow twitches, his lips curving down in a small pout. “I ain’t that messy.”

The hotel manager gives him a blank stare. “Oh, yes, you are, sir,” he states bluntly.

This causes Arthur’s features to sour further with irritation, (Y/N) letting out a soft snort of amusement at this before returning her attention to the hotel manager.

“I was wonderin’, if I paid for a bath and some extra, can y’all wash clothing?” she questions curiously, leaning her arm on the desk as she tilts her head.

The hotel manager smiles in a friendly manner. “Yes, of course! Just leave them outside the bath room and we’ll have them washed and hung up to dry right away. Should be dried by morning,” he informs with a nod. “In fact, we’ve got fresh, warm baths ready to go in both bath rooms. 25 cents for a bath, an extra dollar for clothes.” He motions to the hall to his right.

“Perfect, thanks.” (Y/N) grins as she pays the man a couple of dollars, the hotel manager nodding as he takes them. She turns to Arthur as she holds his hat, beaming at him. “Bath time, mister. Come along.”

Arthur huffs at her, though he follows. “You’re enjoyin’ this too much,” he comments with amusement.

“Men’s is on the left and women’s is on the right!” the voice of the hotel manager calls after them.

(Y/N) calls back a ‘thanks’ in return as she and Arthur make their way down the hall, a few lights mounted on the wooden walls to illuminate the space. The walls were a deep brown wood, the flooring lined with carpet that was dirtied with each step Arthur took, the man looking downward and grumbling softly at the sight.

“I’ll get us a room if I finish first. But take your time. The warm water’ll probably help with the pain,” (Y/N) softly speaks as they near the bath rooms, pausing to turn to the man as she offers him a small smile.

Arthur looks along the hallway apprehensively for a brief moment, the man’s chest rising and falling with a deep breath as he nods slowly. “Whatever you say, darlin’.”

(Y/N) smiles faintly at this and reaches out, squeezing his arm gently. Arthur looks down at her hand briefly before meeting her gaze, the corner of his lips twitching up into a small smile in return. He turns to the men’s bath room, sighing softly as he grabs the handle, slowly pushing the door open and peering inside.

The bath room was decent in size and decorated to have a comfortable feeling to it, a lantern residing on a table near the bathtub and a few clean, white towels neatly folded on the table beside it along with several sized nightclothes for men. The tub was a good size and had a partition stationed behind it, the water fresh and steaming with bubbles floating along the surface, the scent of the soap used pleasant, if not a bit too floral for Arthur’s liking. On the tub was a tray that was secured, a bottle of complimentary wine and a glass residing on the tray, as well as a scrubbing brush.

Arthur takes a deep breath as he looks around warily, his lips pressing together as he enters and shuts the door behind him, his fingers slowly starting to undo the buttons of his shirt.

-

(Y/N) watches Arthur disappear into the separate room before letting out a breath, the woman running a hand through her hair and entering her own bath room. She enters and she unholsters her pistol, setting it down on the table beside the bathtub, along with Arthur’s hat she had forgotten to give back. She sheds her clothing, which had gotten a bit dirty and sweaty from the day she’d had.

After stripping down, she winds a towel around herself and swiftly and carefully sets her folded clothing outside her door with her boots, her eyes flicking to the room adjacent as she spots Arthur’s own clothing left out as well. She looks up as she notices a woman walking over with a spring to her step, the woman lowering down to pick up Arthur’s clothing.

“Excuse me, miss!” (Y/N) quickly and softly calls, not wanting to startle the woman. “Could you leave the… belts and everything? I can handle those,” she says with a sheepish smile, motioning to Arthur’s clothing and her own.

The woman’s head snaps to (Y/N) at the sound of her voice, her dark brown curls bouncing a bit. She tilts her head before perking up, nodding with a friendly smile. “Oh! Of course, sweet thing,” she chirps back, her voice higher pitched and no doubt meant to entice customers. The woman carefully removes the gun belt and holster from Arthur’s clothing before scooping it up once more, then doing the same for (Y/N)’s.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) quietly speaks, nodding her head.

(Y/N) offers the woman a small smile before closing the door, taking a deep breath and facing the large, wooden tub. It was almost too luxurious, which almost made her laugh out loud, the tub no doubt seen as simple and common to others. She bathed as often as she could with their circumstances, but it was mostly in rivers or brief moments using water from a bucket with the other women. Part of her felt… guilty for relaxing.

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts, sighing as she unwinds the towel from herself. She lowers herself slowly into the tub, the heat of the water making her shiver before she settles with a deep sigh of relief, her eyes falling shut as she savors the moment. The hot water felt like heaven against her skin, easing the strain from her muscles. The scent was a bit strong, but pleasant, and calmed her racing thoughts. It was nice, getting a moment to herself.

But it would be nicer with Arthur.

The thought causes her eyes to snap open, her cheeks becoming hot. Her eyes dart around worriedly, as if Arthur could somehow hear her thoughts from the other room, her eyes lingering on his hat residing on the table beside her. She looks at it for a lingering moment, the woman clearing her throat gently and tearing her eyes away.

(Y/N) shakes her head rapidly, as if trying to erase the thought from her head, but she knew it was true. The water around her sloshes gently as she lowers deeper into the tub until her lower face is in the water, her brow furrowed and her eyes fixated on the ceiling. She wasn’t sure how or why her thoughts had been almost non-stop full of Arthur—or, rather she did, and she was just too stubborn to admit it—but she knew she had to get a handle on them. Now wasn’t the time for her far-fetched fantasies, and she couldn’t—wouldn’t—ruin her relationship she has with Arthur over them.

Somehow, she knows it wouldn’t be as simple as just ignoring what she was feeling. She couldn’t fight it, no matter how hard she might try. An extended groan of frustration and helplessness leaves her as she lowers down further into the bath, sinking until her head dunks under the water, a few bubbles popping up.

-

Arthur steps out of the bath room slowly, the man wearing a simple, cream-colored comfortable cotton nightshirt with a button at his throat left undone and trousers that were a pale, sandy brown, his feet donned with cheaply made slippers. His hair was still damp from the bath, his skin now clean of mud. Without the mud, a few bruises were now visible on his skin, one on his jaw and cheek and a few on his torso hidden by his shirt.

He felt uncomfortable and strange in these clothing given, his expression showing this as he ran a hand through his hair with a deep sigh. He normally just slept in whatever he was wearing. It was safer that way, easier to leap into action if someone were to ride into camp shooting at you. But he couldn’t deny he felt… somewhat relaxed, the hot water having helped to loosen his tight muscles and ease some of the pain.

He holds his satchel in one hand and his pistol that he’d refused to part with in the other as he makes his way down the hall, the man nodding in greeting to the hotel manager.

“Your lady already rented a room for you both. Room 2B,” the hotel manager tells him, tilting his head to the stairs with a friendly smile.

Arthur’s face flushes with warmth. “Oh. She’s… not… She’s not my…” He gruffly clears his throat, his eyes flicking away with a hint of embarrassment. “Never mind. Thanks.”

With that, he turns and makes his way up the stairs, his footsteps quiet and his movement quick. He hadn’t truly taken time to look around the hall before when he came in looking for Karen and (Y/N), his eyes lingering on an impressive landscape painting on the wall appraisingly as he passed by it. There were a few windows with lace curtains lining the wall, a few lights mounted beside them and lighting the space with a warm, comfortable glow. His eyes flick ahead as he spots the room, 2B, funnily enough, the same room that (Y/N) had saved Karen from. He reaches out, grasping the handle and pushing the door open, the hinges softly squeaking.

The room was surprisingly spacious and comfortable, Arthur’s eyes scanning around the room quickly and warily. A dresser resided against the back wall next to a window with the curtains pulled shut, a bed pressed to the wall with the end facing the wall to his left. A fireplace was to his right with a few logs already burning, a coat rack to his immediate left and a tall, standing mirror beside this tucked in the corner. Candles light the room on the fireplace’s mantle, along with a few mounted lights on the walls, a portrait of a landscape over the fireplace.

(Y/N) sits on a chair near the mirror as she runs her brush through her damp hair, the woman wearing a simple nightgown that was no doubt given by the hotel. Her eyes dart over to the man, and she lights up noticeably at his presence. Arthur steps into the room, softly closing the door behind him and locking it, ever the cautious one.

“Hey,” she greets as she runs the brush through her hair, her eyes returning to her reflection.

Arthur’s eyes fixate on the bed in the room, a flutter going through his heart that they’ll have to share it. “Hey,” he parrots, fighting off the smile from his face as he steps further into the room. “Thanks for gettin’ the room,” he lowly mumbles, approaching the bed.

“Oh. Of course.” (Y/N) watches the man’s back in the mirror. “I, uh… got one room ‘cause I figured it wouldn’t hurt to… save a little.” She clears her throat as she glances over her shoulder at him. “Hope that’s okay.”

“It is.” Arthur clears his throat as well, internally scolding himself for having agreed so quickly and eagerly. “I mean… savin’ money’s always… good. Lord knows we could use it now,” he adds nonchalantly as he looks back at her with a small shrug, running his fingers through his hair in habit and unintentionally ruffling it up.

His eyes flick to the bed once more, the man’s features softening at the sight of his gear laid out, all polished up and cleaned off. His boots were also cleaned as well and were placed near the fireplace, alongside (Y/N)’s, her gun belt hanging off the back of the chair she was seated in with her pistol holstered away. His hat was carefully placed on the end table beside the bed, the hat noticeably cleaner as well.

“Right, that’s what I was thinking,” (Y/N) retorted, her voice soft and casual.

Arthur nods. “It’s… practical.”

“Mhm,” she hums softly in return.

Arthur exhales deeply as he reaches out, brushing his fingers along his gun belt slowly and gently as he admires her handiwork. “Thanks for…” He motions to his belongings. “All this. You didn’t have to.” He grabs his belt, removing it off the bed and draping it along the end table.

“You got me candy earlier. I’m just returning the favor,” (Y/N) replies fondly, running the brush through her hair a final time before rising.

Arthur softly snorts, shaking his head. “It was a gift. Not a favor. Ain’t nothin’ to return,” he points out, his voice tinged with bluntness and amusement.

(Y/N) shrugs lightly, her lips curved up in a cheeky grin as she makes her way to the dresser. “Well, it’s already done, so hah,” she declares, setting her brush beside her satchel on the dresser.

Arthur grunts at this and sets down his pistol on the end table, the man then picking up his hat gently as he looks down at it. His lips tug into a warm smile, his eyes crinkling and his chest blooming with warmth.

“I appreciate it, darlin’,” he thanked, his voice lowered and soft.

(Y/N) turns to the man, her eyes softening as she smiles. “I know you do,” she gently replies, leaning against the dresser and looking him over. “How was your bath?”

Arthur tilts his head side to side in a so-so motion. “Good. Little quiet, but… it was nice.”

The silence was both a comfort and an unsettling presence. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Silence meant there was no danger, and yet, he always felt like he was missing something when he was alone. Or, someone, that is.

“Yeah. I thought so, too,” (Y/N) agrees earnestly, surprising the man. “I don’t know. Just felt… lonely, in a way.” She sheepishly laughs. “I even felt… guilty for just relaxing. Silly, huh?”

He hadn’t expected her to feel the same as he had.

“Not at all.” Arthur chuckles with a hint of exhaustion. “Felt the same way, darlin’.”

(Y/N)’s eyes meet his for a brief moment, a flicker of pleasant surprise and fondness in her gaze before she looks away with a quiet laugh. She turns, rummaging through her satchel before pulling out a small book, the man recognizing it as one of the few Mary-Beth often read. Arthur’s eyes follow her as she makes her way around the bed, the woman lowering onto the surface and settling in as she opens the book to her marked page.

“Well… maybe if we relax together, we won’t feel as bad,” (Y/N) comments, her voice light and playful as she glances up briefly at the man with a smile.

Arthur huffs softly at this with a tender smile and deeply sighs as he looks down at his hat with approval. “Sounds logical,” he murmurs with amusement.

He sets his hat down on the end table beside his pistol, the man rolling his shoulder lightly and exhaling deeply as the muscle was stretched. He lowers to sit on the bed as he sets his satchel down on the table as well, the man slipping his journal and pencil out. His hand starts to move as he writes in confident, smooth strokes, his focus on his journal as he writes the events of the day, (Y/N) content enough to read as he does so, both basking in one another’s presence. The silence from their baths had been suffocating, but now, it felt warm and soothing, both feeling the effect but neither speaking on it, so as to not shatter the moment.

-

(Y/N) lays in the bed beside Arthur, her form slumped partially and her book held limply in her hands. Her eyes were shut as she dozed, her head occasionally nodding and her breathing soft and slow. The fireplace crackles softly as the flames start to die out, the lights turned off and a lone candle lit on the end table beside where Arthur sat. The sound of his pencil against the page of his journal fills the space with the crackling of the fireplace, crickets and the occasional nicker of a horse or cart outside occurring in the space as well.

Arthur’s eyes are focused on his drawing as he finishes a few key details, adding on texture to the shire horse (Y/N) was soothing in the drawing beside the block of text he’d written down describing what had happened. He smiles subconsciously as he works, the man shifting to be more comfortable. His eyes flick to (Y/N) briefly and return to his journal, but the sight of her makes him pause, his eyes returning to her as he notices her drowsy state.

His eyes linger on her features as he takes in how soft and peaceful she looked, the sight subconsciously causing the tension in his own frame to bleed out. The furrow in his brow soothes, the corner of his lips curving upward with mild amusement as she nods, tenderness swelling in his heart. The man glances down at his journal, deciding he can always finish the drawing another time as he shuts it.

Arthur rises and stretches with a soft grunt, not having realized he’d been sitting stiff and still for so long. He blows out the candle softly before making his way to the fireplace, lowering down and tossing another log in to ensure the room was kept warm during the chilly night. He rises and strides to the chair by the mirror, his footsteps light to not disturb the sleeping woman. He grabs the chair and carries it to the room’s door, tucking the back of it under the door handle as an extra precaution. With a nod of approval to himself, he turns and approaches the bed, the man looking over (Y/N) with a fond warmth in his gaze.

He reaches out and carefully takes the book from her limp hands, making sure to put her marker back into place before shutting it and setting it on the end table beside his hat. His hand twitches at his side with an urge to brush back the hair from her peaceful face, the man hesitating before reaching out slowly. His fingers tremble faintly and brush the strand of hair delicately, his touch gentle, as it always was when it came to her.

A deep breath leaves him as he withdraws his hand, his gaze thoughtful as he looks over her. Truthfully, she didn’t look very comfortable, the woman half-propped up due to having been reading and her head leaning at an odd angle that would no doubt leave a pain in her neck. Even still, she looked breathtaking.

“Sweetheart,” Arthur softly murmurs, his hand reaching out and gently squeezing her shoulder to rouse her from sleep.

(Y/N)’s head lifts as her eyes slowly flutter open, her brow furrowing slightly. “Hm?” she hums, tilting her head in a limp motion.

Arthur chuckles faintly at her sleepy expression, the man carefully and gently guiding her to lay down properly, the woman complying in her relaxed and exhausted state. She blinks slowly, processing he was helping her get more comfortable, her lips curving up in a small, fond smile.

“Oh… thanks, Arthur,” she quietly thanked, yawning softly and stretching much like a lazy cat would before settling once more.

Arthur doesn’t reply, but he smiles faintly as his hands linger on her shoulders. He squeezes her shoulders gently before pulling back, the man lowering onto the bed. He sighs deeply as he gets comfortable, his hand adjusting the blanket over (Y/N) carefully as he lays on his side. His frame tenses with surprise as (Y/N) draws closer to him, her form turning on her side to face him as she scoots closer.

He hardly breathes as she presses into him, her arms tucked between their bodies and her face pressing to his chest, her hair tickling the skin of his throat as his throat bobs nervously. He hadn’t anticipated her cuddling into him—especially since it wasn’t cold. There wasn’t a logical reason for her to be doing this. Unless… maybe she was cold?

Arthur carefully allows his arm to drape around (Y/N)’s waist, his hand pressing to her back and his fingers spreading along the space there as he presses her closer. She didn’t feel cold. He can feel his heartbeat speeding up as he tries to keep his head, but his mind was racing with excuses as to why she wanted to be against him. Surely it wasn’t because she simply wanted to, or so his over-thinking self tried to convince him.

His mind goes blank as she lets out a soft, content hum, her face nuzzling into his chest as her legs slowly tangle with his own. Arthur’s eyes flick down to the top of her head as his face warms, his frame slowly but surely starting to melt against her own as the seconds tick by. He grunts softly as she pulls her head back to look up at him, the man almost instantly assuming she wanted to completely pull away as he tenses.

“You know… I like how happy you look when you’re writin’ and drawing,” (Y/N) sleepy murmurs, looking up at the man with dazed eyes. “It’s nice, seeing you smile.”

Arthur hadn’t expected that. Her hand lifts, her fingers brushing along his stubbled jaw as she tilts her head into her pillow with a soft sigh. Arthur swallows thickly, his throat tightening at her tender gesture as he turns his head into the warm touch.

“It’s nice seein’ you smile too, darlin’,” he quietly mumbles, his voice thick with emotion and intimate. “Sorry for wakin’ you.”

(Y/N) smiles lazily, a quiet giggle leaving her as she lowers her hand slowly. “I don’t mind,” she assures, her head dipping as she presses her face to his chest once more with a soft, content sigh. “Night, Arthur.”

Arthur’s chest tightens, the man unable to resist pulling her closer. “G’night.” His hand caresses along her back, slowly and tentatively as he gauges for any sign of discomfort. Finding none, he continues the motion, keeping his touch gentle and respectful. “Sweet dreams,” he rumbles quietly.

His head tilts downward as he presses his lips to the top of her head, his eyes shutting as he softly inhales her familiar, comforting scent, the scent mixed with the floral soap used in their baths. His hand on her back lifts to the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair tentatively and slowly.

(Y/N) hums lightly at the touch, encouraging the man to continue the motion as he admires the (H/C) strands falling through his fingers. He tries to fight off sleep to savor the moment, but it quickly starts to catch up to him, his eyes fluttering shut. His palm cups the back of her head protectively, the man drifting off as he holds her close, both sleeping better than they had since Colter.

Chapter Text

The sun shines brightly in the clear blue sky overhead, only a few, fluffy white clouds accenting it and casting small shadows in their wake. The town of Valentine was alive with people, the bustle in the streets noisy as the belting of sheep filled the air, followed by whinnies of horses or the chatter of people.

(Y/N) and Arthur, after eating a hearty, much-appreciated, complimentary breakfast given to them by the hotel that had been freshly made at the saloon across the road, make their way downstairs, both looking more well-rested than they had in weeks, their clothing clean with a pleasant fragrance to them. The two had discussed their plans for the day ahead of them before heading out, deciding to check in on the camp before taking on any potential bounties for the Sheriff in town.

Arthur, sitting atop his horse and waiting patiently for (Y/N), checks the pocket watch (Y/N) had gifted him, noting it was still fairly early, the time nearing 9. He was surprised they had slept in for so long, but he knew that both he and (Y/N) obviously needed it if neither woke up before then.

(Y/N) was standing beside Arthur and his horse, the woman adjusting her boot on her foot and running a hand through her hair with a deep sigh. The air felt a bit humid and the sun was warm, the mud beneath her feet still a bit soggy from the rain the night before. She steps closer, smoothly mounting the horse in front of Arthur with his help, the two heading out with a spur of Arthur's heels in the horse's flanks.

-

The ride back to camp was short and pleasantly quiet, both simply enjoying it rather than making idle, unimportant small talk. There was an intimacy to being able to just be content in one another's presences, the sound of the horse's hooves familiar to both and oddly soothing as he trots along the path. They could hear the sounds of nature around them, the occasional pronghorn or eastern wild turkey crossing their path, as well as a stranger or two in a wagon or on their own horses.

After making sure that there was no one around, Arthur guides the horse into the brush of the woods carefully concealing their camp, (Y/N) looking ahead with a small, content smile on her face.

"Hey! Who's there?" the familiar voice of Bill calls from the trees in an intimidating manner, no doubt on guard duty to make himself somewhat useful after what had happened between him and Dutch the night before.

Arthur sighs. "Arthur and (Y/N)," he calls back in a flat voice.

As they draw closer, they're able to see Bill, the man wearing his usual attire, as he mostly cycled through the same three shirts. He nods to the two with a small wave, the man turning and walking off as his eyes scan along the edge of the brush.

"It's a miracle he's working for once," Arthur drawls sarcastically, earning a soft snicker from (Y/N) as he smiles faintly.

"I'm surprised he's even up right now," (Y/N) comments to Arthur in return. "Thought he'd still be sleeping off the drink."

Arthur chuckles at this and guides the horse to the hitching post, (Y/N) smoothly dismounting and taking a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air and the shade the trees were granting them from the heat of the morning sun. Arthur dismounts, carefully tying the reins to the hitching post and stretching, one of his hands resting on his neck as he rolls his head.

"I'll grab our rifles, make sure they're loaded and all that," he speaks up, reaching out and patting the horse's side with a nod. "Might need 'em for bounty huntin'."

(Y/N) turns back to Arthur as she nods, her eyes landing on the horse. "Sounds good. I'll clean up your horse and wait for you."

Arthur nods at this with a thankful smile, the man adjusting his hat over his head. He turns as his hands rest on the buckle of his belt, making his way through the camp towards the area their tents were located. (Y/N) watches him for a brief moment before turning to his horse, a sigh leaving her at how messy he had become from the mud of Valentine. She grabs a rag, rolling up her sleeves with a determined expression.

-

(Y/N) carefully wipes the mud along the horse's legs, her free hand soothing the mighty animal with gentle strokes to his upper leg as she crouches down to continue cleaning his fur. The horse seems content enough, munching on a bale of hay she had plopped down in front of him to keep him busy. She nods to herself with approval as his white pattern was revealed beneath the mud, rising with a soft grunt as she tosses the muddy rag onto a nearby crate.

She wipes at some sweat on her forehead and straightens up, exhaling softly as she looks around the camp. Her eyes land on Karen, her brow furrowing at the sight of the woman in front of where they had tied up Kieran, the O'Driscoll. Karen stood with a mocking expression, a cigarette held between her fingers with familiarity as she softly exhaled smoke in the man's face.

She isn't able to hear what Kieran says to her, but softly scoffs as Karen responds, flicking her cigarette at the man's face. Kieran winces as the cigarette bounces off his cheek, the end of it smoking and burning the grass beneath it near his boots as his head hangs low with defeat and exhaustion. Karen turns with a huff, striding confidently through the camp, passing by where (Y/N) was currently stroking the horse's mane.

"You shouldn't be goin' near that O'Driscoll boy, Karen," (Y/N) calls as the woman passes her, causing the blonde to come to a stop and glance to her with a hint of surprise, clearly not having expected her.

Karen's lips curl into a mischievous smile. "Aw! You worried about little ol' me?" she coos playfully, fluttering her lashes. "Don't you worry. I'm a big girl, (Y/N). But your concern is sweet," she brushes off with a casual shrug, grinning as she continues on her way.

"Hmm," was all (Y/N) hummed back with disapproval, giving her a blank stare.

(Y/N)'s eyes follow Karen as the woman saunters off into camp, a sigh leaving her. She leans against the hitching post beside the horse, her arms folded over her chest as her gaze wanders the area around her. However, the sound of movement gains her attention, her eyes landing on Mary-beth as she cautiously approaches Kieran, eyeing him with a mixture of sympathy and apprehension.

This causes (Y/N) to straighten up as her face hardens protectively, but she remains where she stands, keeping a close eye on the woman. Mary-beth glances around her briefly before stepping closer to Kieran, holding out a cup of... water?

(Y/N)'s face softens with realization, Kieran slowly and weakly lifting his head, his eyes widening a fraction at the sight of Mary-beth before him. Kieran's mouth opens and closes a few times with shock and disbelief, the sweet-faced woman guiding the mug to his lips with urgency. Kieran doesn't hesitate to greedily swallow the liquid, some water dribbling down his chin and neck as Mary-beth tilts the cup forward, allowing him to drink the remainder of the water.

Mary-beth lowers the cup away once emptied, her eyes darting around warily for any sign of the others. Mary-beth speaks to Kieran a bit bashfully, who in turn gives her a doubtful chuckle and weary smile as he replies. With that, Mary-beth spins on her heel, hastily retreating from where the O'Driscoll was tied. (Y/N)'s eyes follow her, Mary-beth setting the cup on a crate as she walks off to her tent, smoothing out her skirt and hair.

(Y/N)'s lips press together as she glances around, a deep, weary sigh leaving her as she makes her way across the camp. She nears Mary-beth, the woman's back to her as she starts to gather some dirty laundry, (Y/N)'s hand reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"Jesus!" Mary-beth hisses softly as she jumps, dropping the bundle of clothing and turning with wide eyes. Her face instantly softens, a relieved laugh leaving her. "Oh, (Y/N)! It's you. Sorry, I'm... a little distracted." She shakes her head, her cheeks flushed a shade of pink.

(Y/N)'s brow raises, her hand lowering to her side as her head tilts. "By the O'Driscoll boy," she states bluntly, her voice even.

Mary-beth winces at this, her features tightening as her smile falters. Her eyes avert away sheepishly, the woman knowing better than to try to talk her way out of something with (Y/N). "You... saw that, didn't you?" she weakly questions, letting out a faint laugh as she picks up her book from her sleeping roll. "Course you did, you see everything,"

A faint snort leaves (Y/N). "And don't forget it," she tells Mary-beth with mock seriousness, her features becoming more stern as she shakes her head. "Look, it... was kind of you, to give him water, but you'll get into a heap of trouble if you're caught doin' that, Mary-beth," she points out with concern and apprehension.

"I know, I know," Mary-beth reluctantly agrees. "But it ain't right, keeping him like that. It's been weeks. Tilly's even given him some water here and there." She sighs softly, shaking her head as she fiddles with the edge of her book. "I know... he's a nasty, mean O'Driscoll, but I can't help but feel... sorry for him whenever I see him."

(Y/N)'s jaw clenches as she glances back over her shoulder, her eyes falling on the O'Driscoll in question. His legs were trembling faintly—no doubt from being forced to stand and sleep upright—his upper torso bent forward with exhaustion and his head low. He seemed absolutely miserable, and (Y/N), despite herself, couldn't help but agree with Mary-beth's sentiment.

"You... can keep... tending to him, I suppose," (Y/N) hesitantly mumbles as she looks back at Mary-beth, sighing as she rubs the bridge of her nose in a stressed manner. "Just try not to get caught. At least be a little more subtle. And be more aware of your surroundings." Her words are firm yet not unkind, the woman nodding. "If you do get caught, tell whoever it is that I said you could. I'll... handle it."

She really didn't want to think of Dutch's reaction if he were to find out the prisoner was being given water, but she'd take the heat for it if it came down to it. She wasn't foolish, she knew Dutch had soft spots for certain people in the gang, and knew that she herself was included in that short list.

Mary-beth smiles with relief and delighted surprise, her arms hugging her book to her chest. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"Yeah, yeah," (Y/N) dismisses in return, though her tone held an unmistakable fondness for her woman. "Have fun with your reading."

A sigh leaves (Y/N) as she turns, rubbing the back of her neck and walking off. She felt a stirring of something akin to uncertainty in her chest as her eyes land on Kieran's pathetic form, her expression twisting to reflect this as she regards him. She shouldn't feel bad— the O'Driscolls as a bunch were heartless killers, pillaging any lands without proper defense and raping the women. And yet, he didn't seem to fit the O'Driscoll type. At least, now he didn't. He looked like a broken and abused animal, more like.

Kieran's head lifts as he hears movement, his tired eyes meeting (Y/N)'s. His features were weathered and exhausted, his eyes holding a hint of pleading and apprehension in them Her steps falter a brief moment before her expression hardens, the woman turning her head away as she swiftly stomps back towards the horses. She can feel his eyes on her as she walks away, and she tries to shake off her newfound sense of guilt, her gaze fixated on the ground.

"(Y/N)!" a cheerful, familiar voice calls fondly, her eyes snapping up.

She blinks at the sight of Hosea approaching, a spring to his step and a wide smile on his face. "Hosea," she greets in return with surprise.

She's caught off guard as the man joins her side, one of his arms reaching around her as he grasps her shoulders gently, guiding her forward with him.

"Come along with me, my dear girl," he urges, his excitement palpable.

(Y/N) doesn't protest as she allows herself to be guided forward, an amused huff leaving her. "Well, a good morning to you as well," she teases, earning a soft laugh from the man.

"Yes, good morning. Now, come!" Hosea insists with a smile. "I've got a surprise for you. And Arthur, as well— where is he?"

"Here," Arthur calls, the man rounding the tents of the camp as he joins the two.

Hosea gives a brief glance to the man, his steps not faltering. "Ah, of course. Never too far from (Y/N), are you?" he rhetorically teases in a blunt manner.

Arthur's eyes avert away as he grumbles in response, his rifle, along with (Y/N)'s, slung on his shoulders, the rifles freshly cleaned and loaded up with ammo. (Y/N) lets out a soft chuckle as she shakes her head, Hosea leading the two a few more feet towards the open-ranged horse pen and hitching posts.

"Well... here we are!" Hosea removes his hands from her shoulders, gesturing forward in a flourished motion.

(Y/N) looks ahead with amusement and exasperation, her eyes widening and her features softening at the sight with a surprise and delight. A tall, unfamiliar, average-weighted white-maned horse was hitched up and saddled up, her tail flicking slightly to swat at pestering flies around her.

The horse's coat was a cool-toned umber brown with a majority of it covered in splashed, porcelain white, a few marks and scars littering her body. The brown of her coat extends to her legs before shifting to the white on three legs, the last completely brown, the brown framing her face as well and the white down the center of her forehead leading to her muzzle. Her muzzle was a soft pink, her eyes a piercing, pale baby blue. Her white mane and tail was long in length and neglectfully disarrayed, long bangs draped down her forehead.

Beside her was a mighty, unsaddled Shire horse, his coat a rich, charcoal black, a few scars and scuffs on his coat as well. A streak of white travels down the broad bridge of his muzzle, the tip and curve of his nose a pale shade of pink. His legs were tall and thick with muscle, tufts of hair along the backs of his legs below his knees leading to his wide and strong hooves. His mane and tail were black as well, the darker shade barely different from his coat, his mane messy and uneven a bit with obvious neglect.

Hosea's own horse, an older, silver-coated Turkoman named Silver Dollar, stood beside them, already saddled up and his black mane cut short and his tail neatly groomed. His tall, thin legs were a smoky black that extended up to his base, darker shades of gray along his backside and occasionally spackling his silver coat.

"Just my luck to come across two big, loudmouth bastards who tried to rob me while I was out riding. And what do you know, they just so happened to have this girl with them!" Hosea declares enthusiastically, practically buzzing with energy as he gestures to the brown and white Frame Overo horse. "She's a... Criollo, if I'm not mistaken. Tall for her breed."

(Y/N) takes in the horse before her, her lips parted slightly in awe and her eyes a fraction wider than normal. She takes a few steps forward, looking over the beautiful animal with admiration. Her eyes linger on the saddle, (Y/N) realizing that it looked new as her heart swells with gratitude. The tawny brown saddle was well made, two saddlebags attached to the back on either side with a thick, soft-looking (F/C) sleeping roll. A small pan was attached to the saddle along with a smaller pouch that resembled a tiny chest, meant for herbs she could use for seasoning when cooking.

"What do you think? Quite a beauty, isn't she?" Hosea questions eagerly, taking in her reaction as his smile softens. "Now, you don't have to take her if you don't like her. I can always take her to Valentine to be offloaded and we can keep looking for a horse for you—"

(Y/N) hastily shakes her head. "No! I love her, I— really, I do." She exhales a breathless laugh, turning to the older man. "Oh, thank you, Hosea!"

She steps closer, her arms winding around Hosea's neck as she hugs him tightly, her chin resting on his shoulder. Hosea's eyes shine with warmth as he returns the embrace, his hand caressing her hair in a gentle, fatherly manner.

"Of course, my dear girl," he warmly replies, gently releasing her from the embrace as she pulls away with an elated expression.

(Y/N) couldn't stop grinning giddily as she looks over the horse, who, in turn, stares at her with icy blue eyes. The horse's ears perk forward with interest as she softly nickers, her head lifting a bit and tugging gently on the reins as her frame shifts towards (Y/N).

Arthur watches (Y/N) from the corner of his eye, his lips twinging up into a fond smile at the sight of her so happy. He commits it to memory, his gaze shifting ahead as he notices the Shire watching him, the mighty beast impatiently stamping at the ground and huffing loudly.

"What about that one?" Arthur questions, lifting his chin in motion to the Shire, as his arms fold over his chest.

"Ah, you've noticed him, have you?" Hosea muses fondly, looking over the beast in question.

"Hard not to," Arthur dryly replies, his brow lifting at the sheer size of the beast.

Hosea laughs at this softly, watching with a fond smile as (Y/N) approaches the Criollo. She stands a few feet in front of where the horse was hitched, the Criollo watching her with a mixture of interest and apprehension as a nicker leaves her.

"The Shire was with those men, too. Like I said, just my luck to run into them," Hosea explains with a nod, looking over the two horses with a prideful twinkle in his eye. "Think they were mistreating her and the big brute, the poor things," he quietly adds, frowning deeply and shaking his head before facing Arthur. "Figured you could take him. You've got a way with the wilder horses, and... well, if you could handle Boadicea, you could certainly handle him. I know you have your own horse currently, but..." He trails off, gesturing to the Shire.

"Was thinkin' of what to do with him." Arthur sighs, reaching out and patting the Tennessee Walker's neck gently. "He's a good horse, but he's awful skittish." His eyes flick to the Shire, his expression thoughtful as he frowns. "Maybe I will take him," he mentions with interest, nodding. "Thank you, old man." He reaches out, patting Hosea's shoulder in thanks.

"Thank you, Hosea. It means the world to me," (Y/N) chimes in as well, giving the older man a quick glance and smile before turning her eyes back to the Criollo. "And thank you for the saddle. It's beautiful."

"Ah, it was no trouble," Hosea fondly replies, turning and stepping closer to his own horse currently hitched as his hand reaches out to stroke the animal's neck. "Now that you've got your own horses, how about taking them out for a ride? I was going to go hunting, so it could be the perfect time to," he suggests hopefully, obviously excited at the prospect of going hunting with the two.

He unholsters his rifle from his horse's saddle, holding it out carefully to Arthur.

"What are you huntin', an elephant?" Arthur questions with bewilderment, reaching out to take the rifle from Hosea, inspecting it.

"I wish!" Hosea laughs with amusement, taking the rifle back and holstering it once more as he shakes his head. "No, I saw a huge bear. One of the biggest I ever saw. I reckon nearly a thousand pounds."

(Y/N)'s brows raise at this. "Really? And you want us to come along?"

"Of course," Hosea agrees with a nod.

"Where are we heading, exactly?" Arthur questions curiously, glancing over with an arched brow.

Hosea looks through his saddlebags, nodding to himself. "Up near the Dakota River. Might take a day or two," he tells him.

(Y/N) softly hums at this. "Sounds like a nice break from here. Reckon we could all use it."

Hosea wearily chuckles. "You've got that right," he readily agrees. "It's been a rough couple of weeks." He turns to the two. "You need anything before we head out?"

(Y/N) perks up, nodding. "One second."

The two watch as she jogs around the camp to where her tent was, disappearing inside. She's only gone for a brief moment, the woman returning with the bow Charles had given her slung over her shoulder, as well as an extra saddlebag that once was used for her old horse.

"Ready now," she says as she briskly walks over, carefully securing her bow to the horse's saddle.

Arthur steps closer as he offers her rifle to her, making her nod in thanks as she holsters it into the horse's saddle as well. She also empties the contents of her saddlebag into the saddlebags attached to the saddle of the horse, offloading some heavier equipment from her satchel like extra ammo as well into them to make her bag lighter.

"Let's go then," Hosea urges, shifting towards Silver Dollar as he gives his saddle a look-over. His eyes land on the Tennessee Walker, making him perk up. "Say! Let's take this one to Valentine!" he suggests, motioning to the Tennessee Walker with an excited point of his finger. "There's a decent dealer there, and it's on the way, more or less. We'll unload him since you've got yourself a new horse! Put your saddle on the Shire so we can get going."

"Alright then," Arthur agrees with a nod, approaching the Tennessee Walker.

Arthur works quickly as he effortlessly unsaddles the Tennessee Walker, the man carrying it over to the Shire. The Shire horse eyes Arthur as he remains oddly still and calm, Arthur watching the animal warily in return as he works on saddling him up.

"Easy boy," he quietly murmurs to the animal, lowering a bit as he adjusts the straps to accommodate the Shire's large frame.

"Oh, you two, this is going to be fun!" Hosea excitedly speaks. "Go ahead and mount up," he encourages the two, adjusting his hat before sliding on his olive green coat, the neck lined with beige fur. "But don't rush it. I don't mind waiting a minute or two— let you two get a grasp on the horses' personalities and such," he adds reassuringly, turning his attention to Silver Dollar as he pets his beloved companion.

(Y/N) offers her hand to the Criollo in a slow, gentle motion, the horse watching her for a moment. Inquisitively, the horse cranes her neck closer, her nostrils flaring as she sniffs the woman's hand with loud, snorting breaths. A snort leaves the horse as she leans her head back, her ears perking forward and her breathing softening.

Emboldened by this, (Y/N) steps closer, her fingers brushing along the horse's neck before she allows her palm to fully press to her neck. The Criollo lets out a nicker as she shifts uneasily, but she settles after a moment, snorting softly. (Y/N) glides her hand slowly along the horse's neck and along her side, the Criollo breathing slowly and calmly as some of her muscle twitches beneath (Y/N)'s touch.

As she works on soothing the Criollo, Arthur stands before the Shire, his arms folded over his chest and his expression one of awe and mild apprehension. The Shire stares back with deep brown eyes, snorting softly at the man and shaking his head out before impatiently stomping the ground.

Arthur grunts softly as he lowers his crossed arms, approaching in slow steps and patting the horse's thick neck. His other hand reaches out slowly to stroke along the horse's muzzle, the man watching closely and ready to retract his hand if the horse showed signs of aggression, as the last thing he wanted was for it to bite him.

"Don't you throw me," Arthur grumbles quietly to the horse, an undertone of gentleness to his voice despite his words. The horse, of course, doesn't reply, but he does let out a deep snort.

"Oh, he won't! He's an angel!" Hosea reassures with a laugh, smirking. "If I'm near him," he adds playfully.

Arthur huffs at this. "Nasty little look in his eyes," he drawls apprehensively, watching as the Shire stares at him in an almost challenging manner.

"Don't be rude about this magnificent creature!" Hosea chides with mock offense as he mounts Silver Dollar, glancing over to where (Y/N) was currently stroking the Criollo's mane. "Be like (Y/N). Look at her, buttering up the beauty to win her trust," he fondly jokes, guiding Silver Dollar away from the hitching post.

(Y/N) doesn't even seem to hear the man, all her focus on the Criollo as her smile never leaves her face. She coos something fondly to the horse, reaching up slowly to stroke along the white of her forehead and muzzle, the Criollo snorting softly as she noses into the touch a bit.

Arthur sighs deeply at the sight, his attention returning to the Shire's. He grabs hold of the horn of the saddle, sliding his boot into the stirrup as he keeps his eyes on the Shire's. He lifts himself up in a quick, practiced motion, settling himself quickly in anticipation for the horse's reaction to his weight. To his surprise, the Shire only seems mildly annoyed, Arthur's hands grasping the reins firmly as the animal shifts and lets out a low neigh. He watches the Shire for any indication of aggravation for a moment before slowly allowing himself to relax, satisfied that he won't be thrown— for now, anyway.

(Y/N) mounts the Criollo, one of her hands grasping the horn of the unfamiliar saddle and her other reaching down to soothingly stroke the horse's neck. The Criollo shuffles slightly with a soft nicker as she adjusts to (Y/N)'s weight, her ears flicking back for a brief moment before shifting forward, the Criollo soothed as (Y/N) continues to stroke her neck gently.

"I think I'll call you... (H/N)," (Y/N) softly breathes out, nodding to herself with a grin of delight.

The Criollo, now named (H/N), lets out a soft neigh at this, turning with a gentle tug of the reins by (Y/N) as she guides her forward to join Hosea. She urges her to a stop, her heart swelling with already growing affection for the horse as she strokes her neck, waiting for Arthur.

Arthur tugs on the reins, urging the Shire to turn away from the hitching post, the horse obeying, but not without a low nicker as he moves to walk forward without given a prompt to. Arthur gently pulls on the reins to make him halt, the Shire huffing at this and shifting restlessly, clearly eager to be off.

"Easy, big feller," Arthur soothes, loosening his grip on the reins as the Shire settles reluctantly.

Arthur takes out his lasso from his saddlebag, unwinding some of the thick rope and smoothly tossing it onto the Tennessee Walker. The Tennessee Walker lets out a nicker of surprise, but doesn't protest, allowing Arthur to guide him closer as he urges the Shire towards Hosea and (Y/N).

"Alright, let's head into town," Hosea cheerfully urges, tapping his heels into Silver Dollar's flanks to urge the horse into a trot. "No bar fights, please. I heard about that," he calls over to Arthur pointedly.

(Y/N) softly snorts at this as she guides (H/N) to follow alongside Silver Dollar, Arthur urging the Shire to do the same on his other side, the man looping the lasso attached to the Tennessee Walker following around the horn of his saddle to keep it secured.

"I'll do my best," Arthur replies in a monotone.

Hosea rolls his eyes fondly, turning his head to look over his shoulder to the camp. "We're heading out! Might be gone a couple days!" he calls loudly to no one in particular, gaining a few of the camp member's attention as they either nod or smile back.

(Y/N) looks over (H/N) with pride as the animal trots alongside Silver Dollar, behaving surprisingly well for having a new rider atop her back. She keeps steady without much guidance, though (Y/N) does notice her overgrown bangs falling into her blue eyes often, making note to trim them at a later time.

As the three get onto the main road, they spur their horses into a canter, the Tennessee Walker being led by Arthur trailing behind just a bit as they continue on their way. The land is slowly becoming familiar, though (Y/N) knew there is still much that they hadn't encountered yet.

"Where'd you get this saddle? It's comfortable," (Y/N) questions Hosea as she looks over the leather.

Which was surprising. Usually, new saddles were stiff and firm. This one felt like it was made for her, the seat cushioned nicely and the blanket beneath it separating the leather from her horse's back thick and well-made.

"I actually had it picked out for a while. Got it over in Valentine the first week we were here, hoping I'd find a horse for you," Hosea explains with a smile. "They've got a good range of horse tack and beautiful saddles there." He sighs softly. "I used to have a real nice one."

"I remember." (Y/N) nods. "Whatever happened to it?"

"Got stolen outside that saloon in Deer Creek," Hosea reminds, his tone holding no grudge, as it had been years.

Hosea guides Silver Dollar off the path, (Y/N) and Arthur guiding their horses to follow as he takes a shortcut to Valentine. The terrain is at a small incline, the trees breaking away and a few boulders scattered about the land.

"Oh, I remember that," Arthur groans as he nods. "Just about. Turned into a real long day."

(Y/N) softly snorts as she frowns. "That's right... Mac went crazy, if I recall correctly."

"He did. Threatened to kill the whole town," Hosea says with a hint of amusement as they continue riding, a wheeze leaving him. "And Davey was passed out so cold we left him there, came back in the next day, and he woke up, started right back drinking again!"

They ride back onto the path, Hosea leading them with Arthur and (Y/N) on either side of him. (Y/N) lets out a quiet laugh, Arthur chuckling with a wide smile at the memory.

Arthur sighs wistfully. "I miss those boys."

(Y/N) nods, her expression softening. "They were always kind to me. More feral than man, the both of them, but... kind." She shakes her head with a soft sigh. "I miss 'em, too. And Jenny... she was feisty."

"She certainly was. Had a spark, that girl," Hosea gently agrees.

"It must be pretty hard on Lenny," Arthur chimes in with sympathy, frowning as he shakes his head. "You could tell he was sweet on her."

(Y/N) nods, feeling a pang of sadness for the boy. He was no doubt heartbroken after her death. She'd be, too.

"Yeah..." she quietly agrees.

Hosea was quiet for a moment. "Well, Lenny and Jenny could have never worked," he starts, his voice taking a playful edge. "That's like... Arthur and Martha. Or Bill and Phil. Or (Y/N) and (Name that rhymes)."

(Y/N) huffs and playfully rolls her eyes, Arthur letting out a quiet wheeze at this.

"Oh, please. I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered!" (Y/N) protests with amusement, waving a hand dismissively as Hosea laughs.

A moment of comfortable silence passes between the three, filled by the clopping hooves of their horses as they ride along the path.

"It's... felt a bit like our luck died with them," Arthur quietly admits, his voice holding a hint of disheartenment and grief.

(Y/N) glances over to Arthur with a softened frown, her heart clenching at his vulnerability. It was a rare thing.

"Nonsense. We'll be alright," Hosea gently soothes with confidence. "Just need some money to get back on our feet."

"I hope so," Arthur mumbles, though he does seem a bit reassured.

(Y/N) catches his eye and offers him a reassuring smile, causing the man's features to soften. He nods in return as they continue riding, (Y/N) perking up.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask. Did you ever find anyone to take those bonds we found on the Cornwall train?" she questions Hosea with curiosity. After dealing with that train—and the possible repercussions—she hoped the bonds would truly have been worth it.

"Not yet." Hosea shakes his head. "They're still very hot. Need to be done right." His expression becomes thoughtful. "I have a couple of leads I'm looking into."

"Sounds good," (Y/N) acknowledges.

The three continue to ride to the town, the ground slowly giving away and becoming thicker and more damp as they enter the muddy town. They slow their horses into a trot, not wanting to bulldoze anyone accidentally with their animals. Arthur's horse gives a soft, annoyed whinny as he starts to tug against the reins while drifting towards (Y/N) and her horse, Arthur correcting his handling as he guides the horse back to run straight with a tug of the reins and a squeeze of his heels.

"Don't let that big bastard get the better of you there, Arthur," Hosea teases with fondness.

"He's alright," Arthur brushes off with a chuckle, reaching down to pat the animal's neck. "You're okay, boy."

(Y/N) looks over, smiling faintly as she admires Arthur on his new horse. "He's a lot calmer than I thought he'd be. How does he feel?" she questions.

Arthur looks down over his horse thoughtfully, patting the animal's neck once more before he grabs the reins with his hand. "He keeps wantin' to ride towards (H/N), but he's doing good overall. Hasn't tried to buck me."

Hosea softly hums at this. "Ah, the two must be bonded."

(Y/N)'s eyes flick to Hosea with interest, her features softening as she smiles with a chuckle. "Aw, that's sweet. I'm glad we can keep 'em together," she speaks with fond amusement. "I'm sure they are, too."

(H/N) gives a quiet whinny as she trots along the path, Hosea leading the two over to the stables. Hosea gently tugs Silver Dollar to a stop as (Y/N) and Arthur do the same to their own horses, the older man nodding ahead to the building.

"Go on ahead, I'm going off to the General Store— get a few things to lure that bear out with," he tells them, turning Silver Dollar while keeping his focus on the two.

"I'll stay here and keep an eye on this big guy here," (Y/N) comments as she motions to the large shire with a nod of her head.

Arthur grunts softly as he dismounts, unwinding the lasso from the horn of the saddle and gently tugging the Tennessee Walker closer.

"I doubt he'll wander off while (H/N)'s here," he replies, guiding the Tennessee Walker towards the opened stable doors.

Hosea turns Silver Dollar fully and spurs him into a canter, heading over to the nearby General Store. (Y/N) softly sighs as she stretches out, her hand idly stroking her horse's mane as she admires her coat.

-

Arthur doesn't take long in the stables, the man heading out without the Tennessee Walker and holding two brushes and a small sack. He strides over to where (Y/N) had remained on her horse, the woman perking up.

"How'd it go?" she questions.

"Good. Stable owner said a farmer was lookin' for a gentle horse for his young son, so the animal will have a good life," Arthur informs with a small smile, reaching out to pat his horse. "Stable owner gave me these, too."

He passes a horse brush to her, the woman looking over it with surprise before she tucks it away into one of the saddlebags.

"And some snacks for them." Arthur lifts the small sack with nod before tucking it away into his saddlebag. "He also wanted me to tell you he's glad you found yourself a horse."

(Y/N) smiles at this. "He was nice to me yesterday. Understanding, not pushy with his horses," she softly says.

Hosea rides over on Silver Dollar, gaining their attention as he smiles to the two. "Done?" he questions, earning a nod from both of them. "Let's head out, then. We've got quite the ride ahead of us."

Arthur smoothly mounts his horse with a soft grunt, nodding. "Lead the way."

Hosea takes the lead with Silver Dollar as Arthur and (Y/N) follow after him, the three heading out of town and continuing their way towards the mountains. By the looks of it, the trip would be maybe an hour or so depending on how fast they rode.

"So... we're going to a lake then, right?" (Y/N) asks with interest.

"That's right. It's called O'Creagh's Run, up in the mountains east of Cumberland Falls," Hosea replies with a nod.

(Y/N) looks up in thought, trying to mentally visualize the place as her brow furrows. "I need to get a map. Some parts are a bit familiar, but... we haven't been out far yet. Don't think it'll be fun to get lost," she comments out loud with a huff.

Hosea perks up at this, the man reaching into his saddlebag. "I've got one that you can have. Been studying it since we moved out onto Horseshoe Overlook."

He fishes out a folded map, the man offering it to her as she rides alongside him.

"Thanks, I'll be sure to study it," she softly thanks with a smile of gratitude.

Not one to waste time, she unfolds the map, figuring she'd get a head start on it during the ride. (H/N) was behaving well enough that she hardly had to steer, the horse keeping to the trail and following Silver Dollar. A moment of silence passes, Arthur glancing up to the mountains apprehensively as he lets out a quiet grumble.

"We're goin' back up into the mountains?" Arthur questions, frowning and letting out a soft snort. "Sure didn't figure on that."

"But this time, we're doing the chasing," Hosea points out with a cheeky grin.

Arthur smirks faintly at this, (Y/N) smiling softly to herself as her eyes remain fixated on the map. She glances up briefly to spur (H/N) into a canter as Hosea does to Silver Dollar, Arthur following suit as their horses run along the dirt path.

"So, how are things between you and John?" Hosea questions over the sound of the horse's hooves.

(Y/N) doesn't glance up from the map. "We're fine—" She hesitates, realization crossing her features as she snorts. "Ah, you mean Arthur."

A huff leaves said man, his expression souring.

"Fine," he drawls unconvincingly.

Hosea sighs softly at this. "Ain't it about time you... let it go now?" he questions softly.

Arthur's brow twitches, his jaw clenching as his grip tightens on his horse's reins. "It was a year, Hosea. He ditched us for a goddamn year," he grits out.

(Y/N)'s eyes flick up at this, her lips pressing together. She sighs softly. "He knows that... he shouldn't have. He feels bad about it, trust me. And he should," she softly and hesitantly says, knowing it was a sensitive topic.

"He knows he did wrong— he just wants to put it behind him," Hosea adds.

"I'm sure he does," Arthur bitterly speaks, scoffing. "Runnin' off on that kid is one thing, but there's a code. And he knows that. He ain't Trelawny." He shakes his head. "Dutch and you pretty much raised him."

"I know that," Hosea replies, his voice becoming strained just a fraction. "But it's done. Has been for a while now." He sighs, shaking his head. "(Y/N)'s already forgiven and forgotten— can't you... try to do the same?" he exasperatedly asks.

"Well... not forgotten..." (Y/N) mumbles quietly, but loud enough for the men to hear. She sighs deeply, her eyes focusing on Arthur. "But he has apologized for it. I'm not gonna sit here and say you have to forgive him, Arthur, but... you two were like brothers, once upon a time," she reminds gently.

Arthur bristles at this, his eyes averting away as he bites the inside of his cheek. He exhales sharply. "Nobody else would have been welcomed back that easy, after that long, and you both know it."

Hosea sighs wearily. "Maybe. But please, don't you put that to the test."

Arthur scoffs at this, his eyes snapping to Hosea. "Course I wouldn't. I'd never leave (Y/N) the way he left Abigail," he snaps defensively, his hardened scowl faltering. He blinks owlishly, his face becoming hot as he awkwardly clears his throat. "That... what I meant was, just... leaving the gang was wrong," he quickly adds, but his voice falters as he huffs and looks away with a scowl. "Forget it."

"That's sweet, Arthur," (Y/N)'s soft voice causes the man to look back, his scowl softening with a hint of surprise at her reaction. She smiles at him, her cheeks a bit warm. "I wouldn't leave you, either."

Arthur clears his throat as he feels his heart clench in his chest, his grip tightening on the reins of his horse. He feels oddly bashful, his eyes averting away but a small, very pleased smile tugging at his lips as he does so.

"I know," he quietly replies.

Hosea sighs heavily at their interaction with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, eyeing the two with a warm, knowing look in his eye and a smile on his face. He shakes his head, the man looking ahead as he leads them onward deeper into the mountains.

-

The trees cluster more as the three ride further up into the mountain, the change in temperature noticeable, but still pleasant, a faint breeze lingering. The area was full of the sound of nature, the three riding in a comfortable silence on the path.

Hosea looks ahead, the man nodding to himself as he spots the fork in the road. "Okay, we head right up here," he tells the two.

They, of course, follow. They continue onward, the tall mountain faces casting a shadow on the three as they ride through the deep forest. The smell of water fills the air, Hosea perking up as he leads the two along the bank of a pond.

"Ah, I remember this place..." Hosea fondly says, smiling as he nods to the pond. "Moonstone Pond."

(Y/N) admires the view of the pond, feeling a sense of serenity wash over her as she breathes out softly. "It's beautiful out here."

Arthur nods in agreement as he takes in the sight, the two riding alongside Hosea around the pond, continuing their way deeper into the mountains.

The trail leads upward on a mountain ridge, the three slowing their horses and proceeding carefully as they ride in a line rather than side by side. (Y/N) glances downward apprehensively as she soothes (H/N), keeping her steady as she follows behind Hosea, Arthur behind her on his own horse. In the distance, the sun had started to descend— not quite setting yet, but slowly and surely getting there.

"That's the lake there!" Hosea calls to the two, pointing outward and down to the land below, a majestic lake visible and the sunlight dancing along it. "Let's loop around the other side."

Hosea urges his horse further along the ridge, then directs him to the path that winds downward along the face of the mountain, (Y/N) and Arthur following behind him. A variety of flowers decorate the thick grass at the hooves of the horses, the grass rustling gently with the faint breeze.

"You know... Micah and Lenny have been gone for a bit," (Y/N) comments out loud, her lips pursing a bit in thought.

"Oh, yeah..." Arthur agrees as he blinks, seeming to realize this as well. "Where do you think they got up to? Susan sent them out scouting, but... you figure they'd be back by now."

Hosea hums at this, his brow furrowing. "I have no idea. I hope they weren't picked up."

"Why'd she even send Micah?" (Y/N) asks with a hint of disdain. "Makes no sense. And poor Lenny, gettin' paired with him again."

Arthur huffs in agreement, Hosea sighing, his expression mirroring her distaste for the man.

"He's effective... in his own way," Hosea hesitantly says.

"Don't have to lie to us. Dutch ain't here," (Y/N) bluntly replies, giving Hosea a raised brow look. "Lenny at least has a good head on his shoulders." She sighs. "I suppose there's no point thinking of the worst."

"Exactly so," Hosea praises with a nod. "They'll be fine, I'm sure."

The three continue on down the ridge, the land slowly flattening and giving way to a beautiful, grassy forest floor. The path is still visible thanks to people riding through keeping the grass away, flowers and other plants in the grass. Some of the grass rustles with animals hidden in it, a few birds flying overhead.

Silver Dollar lets out a gentle nicker of surprise as something darts past his hooves, Hosea looking downward and gasping softly as he perks up.

"Look there... rabbits!" he tells the two, pointing after the direction the rabbits had run off in. "Maybe we should catch two or so to cook."

Hosea slows Silver Dollar, causing (Y/N) and Arthur to do the same with their horses.

"Sure, I'll try to shoot one—" Arthur starts, reaching for his rifle holstered in his saddle.

"Arthur, did you forget what Mr. Smith taught us?" (Y/N) asks dramatically with amusement, causing him to halt. She playfully clicks her tongue with disapproval, grinning. "I just know he'd have stared at you with disapproval if he heard you talking of shooting a rabbit."

Arthur huffs at this as he leans back in his saddle, giving her a half-hearted glare, the corner of his lip twitching with amusement. "I have hunted rabbits before, you know."

"Oh, yes," she agrees with a knowing tone.

"Obliterated them with a shotgun, if I remember right," Hosea chimes in, guiding Silver Dollar forward into a comfortable spot.

Arthur grumbles softly at the two, rolling his eyes. He can't fight the smirk on his face, a quiet chuckle leaving him.

"I'll hunt the rabbits," (Y/N) says with amusement as she dismounts (H/N), sliding her bow off the saddle and patting her horse. "Stay here, girl."

This earns a gentle snort from the animal, (Y/N) turning and making her way into the deep brush as she wields her bow. Hosea grunts softly as he dismounts his horse, Arthur guiding the Shire over before dismounting as well.

"Us men should make ourselves useful while the lady hunts for us," Hosea mentions a bit playfully, motioning to the spot he'd chosen for them. "Let's make a camp for the night. It's getting late."

"Sure."

Arthur and Hosea get to work taking out sleeping rolls and a cooking kit, Arthur laying out his sleeping roll near (Y/N)'s. It wasn't directly beside it, hers was aligned the side of where the campfire will be and his on the other, but their heads would be close to one another's. They decide not to take out the tents, as the weather seemed promising.

Hosea watches Arthur as the man smooths out her sleeping roll with care, his eyes glinting with amusement. Arthur doesn't notice as he rises from his crouched position, dusting his hands off with a deep sigh. He slides his satchel off his shoulders, the man searching through it for a moment.

"So... are you ever going to do something about (Y/N)?" Hosea questions bluntly.

This causes Arthur's head to whip around so fast he almost pulled a muscle, he was sure, the man fumbling a bit with his satchel and nearly spilling the contents.

"Wh— What?" Arthur sputters with surprise, blinking rapidly.

Surely, he had misheard the older man. Arthur clears his throat, setting his satchel down on his sleeping roll, smoothing his suddenly very sweaty hands on his thighs.

"About... (Y/N)? What about her?" he questions, trying to act nonchalant and no doubt failing miserably.

Hosea's brow lifts at this, the older man lowering to sit down on his small stool by his sleeping roll. "Arthur, I'm not a fool. You know that," he tells him fondly and pointedly, unable to resist smirking at the normally surly man's flustered state.

Arthur's eyes avert away like a child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar, his face feeling hot and his heart starting to race in his chest. He rubs the back of his neck, his jaw clenching so hard it nearly pops.

"I..." He clears his throat gruffly. "I'm gettin' more kindlin'."

Hosea watches with amusement as Arthur turns and stomps off, the older man shaking his head fondly with a raspy chuckle. He glances over to the pile of twigs Arthur had already gathered just minutes before, rolling his eyes as he smiles to himself.

-

The sound of a fire crackling fills the area, a generous pile of twigs and bark from trees sitting beside the stones that encircled the flames. (Y/N) strolls through the brush with two healthy, plump rabbits held by the tails in her hands, her bow slung over her shoulder and a prideful grin on her face.

She spots Hosea, now wearing his coat, tending to the horses, their saddles removed and draped over a log to keep their round shape. She knew he no doubt fed them a few snacks as well, the horses now grazing on some grass. Hosea strokes Silver Dollar's neck as he murmurs to the horse, Arthur sitting on the ground near the fire with his journal out, a familiar sight.

(Y/N) approaches with a spring in her step, the sound of her footsteps making Hosea look up and smile.

"Ah, look at that!" Hosea praises with affection. "You did well, my dear girl."

"Thank you, thank you." (Y/N) playfully bows, letting out a soft chuckle as she walks over.

Arthur's eyes snap up at the sound of her voice, the man setting his journal aside. He hastily rises and approaches her, meeting her halfway before reaching out to take the rabbits to carry them for her.

"Good job," Arthur quietly and warmly praises, looking over the rabbits with approval as he drapes them on a log near the fire. "Did better than I would have."

(Y/N) smiles brightly at this, a soft chuckle leaving her as she playfully nudges him. "I doubt it, silly man." She nods to them, tilting her head. "Mind skinnin' them for me?"

"Course not," he readily agrees, just as she knew he would.

Arthur takes out his knife and quickly gets to work, (Y/N) stepping back to give him room as he works efficiently. She turns and makes her way to her saddle draped over the log, crouching down and opening the chest-shaped pouch, fishing out a few spices and herbs she'd found on her outings with Arthur in the past weeks.

She rises and approaches Arthur just as he finishes skinning the rabbits, his sleeves rolled up and revealing his muscular forearms. He uses a rag to clean off his hands, the movement making his muscle flex as her eyes linger on the sight. She clears her throat as she notices Hosea giving her an amused look, her cheeks feeling warm as she steps closer.

"Thanks," (Y/N) speaks with gratitude, looking down at the freshly skinned rabbits and exhaling deeply as she gets to work.

-

It didn't take long to prepare them once they were skinned, chunks of rabbit meat cooking on wooden sticks over the fire. The scent of it fills the air, the spices making it a mouth-watering scent. The three sit around the fire together on small stools as they have occasional conversations, but for the most part, they enjoy the sounds of nature around them.

A decent amount of meat was given by the two rabbits, the three sharing the meal and (Y/N) carefully wrapping the remaining meat up to be warmed and eaten in the morning. The sky was now dark, the smoke from the fire disappearing into the starry sky overhead as the stars and moon cast a pale glow onto them. There was a faint chill in the night air, this causing Hosea to shiver lightly as he holds his hands to the fire, (Y/N) and Arthur seeming unbothered by it.

Hosea yawns deeply as he slowly rises, rubbing his back as he stretches. "Alright, well... I'm going to bed," he declares with a sigh. "I want us to be up at first light to find this monster." A spark of excitement is in his eyes, making him look younger as he smiles.

"Sounds good to us," (Y/N) says with fond amusement, nodding her head. "Night, Hosea."

"Don't stay up too late," Hosea fusses as he approaches his sleeping roll, slowly lowering down onto it.

"We're fine, old man," Arthur muses with a small smirk. "G'night."

Hosea huffs softly and rolls his eyes with feigned exasperation, but he smiles back, slipping into his sleeping roll and getting comfortable.

-

A few minutes had passed, Arthur sketching in his journal sitting on his stool and (Y/N) now sitting beside him, having moved her stool over to the man. She reads the same book she had been in the motel, her eyes fixated on the words of the page. Their horses rest close by, Arthur's horse's side gently pressed to (H/N)'s.

As (Y/N) reads, she can't help the fact her eye is drawn to the movement of Arthur's hand as he sketches, her eyes landing on the drawing. Her features soften to a delighted smile as she realizes he was drawing their horses in this exact moment, the man working on the detailing of the area around them.

Arthur notices her looking over from the corner of his eye, the man stilling his movements for a second. He exhales softly as he slowly tilts his journal towards her, allowing her a better view of the drawing as he watches her reaction.

(Y/N)'s eyes flick up to Arthur with delight as she scoots a bit closer, leaning in as she admires the page. "It's beautiful, Arthur," she softly speaks, keeping her voice down as Hosea sleeps nearby.

He preens at the praise, the man clearing his throat. "It's alright," he mumbles sheepishly.

"More than alright," she disagrees fondly, nudging her elbow into his gently with a smile.

Arthur smiles at this as he looks over his drawing, feeling a strong sense of pride washing over him at the fact she'd liked his drawing.

"You know..." (Y/N) starts, nodding ahead to their horses resting. "You've still gotta name him,"

Arthur looks towards his horse, his features becoming thoughtful as he frowns. He sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know— I never was good with namin' animals," he grumbles softly, frowning deeply. His eyes flick to her. "How about you name him for me?"

(Y/N)'s caught off guard by this, the woman perking up. "Really? Are... you sure?" she questions with surprise.

Arthur nods at this, shifting in his seat. "Yeah. I trust your judgement."

(Y/N) gently bites her lower lip as she contemplates this for a few moments, her eyes fixated on the magnificent beast. Her brow furrows before her face lights up, a grin on her face as she nods to herself.

"Lancelot."

Arthur's eyes flick to her, the man tilting his head as he considers it. "Lancelot," he repeats softly, letting out a soft hum. "Where'd you come up with that?"

(Y/N) turns her head to Arthur, smiling sheepishly. "Oh. Well, I read a book of Mary-beth's a while back. It was about this feller named King Arthur of... Camelot, I think," she quietly explains. "Had a knight called Lancelot. Was the first knight of the roundtable. Loyal as hell and a courageous man, and he had been a great friend to Arthur." She hesitates, letting out a sheepish laugh. "Ah, except he... was in love with King Arthur's wife, and, uh, led to the downfall of the kingdom, ultimately betraying Arthur..." she mumbles quickly and quietly, clearing her throat. "But! Maybe this... Lancelot... will be different from that one, hmm?"

She gives Arthur a hopeful smile and playfully bumps her elbow into his, the man processing what she'd told him.

A snort leaves him as he looks to his horse. "Well, I sure hope so," he drawls with amusement, his features becoming more softened and thoughtful. "Lancelot. I like it. Lance for short." He nods.

(Y/N) smiles with relief. "I'm glad. But don't feel obligated to take it just 'cause I suggested it," she tells him worriedly.

"I don't. Really, I do," Arthur reassures her quickly, making her worries ease. "We'll make a better story than that ending, won't we, Lance?" he calls over to the horse.

Lance softly nickers as he looks over, and somehow, the horse looked... bored. He snorts at Arthur and turns his back to him with a small flick of his tail, his side pressing into (H/N)'s as he gets comfortable.

(Y/N)'s hand covers her mouth to muffle a laugh, Arthur's brow twitching as he stares at his horse, huffing as he feigns offense.

"Ah, he'll get used to me," Arthur brushes off with a wave of his hand, his lips curving into a half-smirk.

(Y/N) sighs with amusement as she lowers her hand, gazing at him fondly. "You do have a way of growing on people," she teases gently.

Arthur chuckles at this as he smiles down at her, his eyes scanning her features as a moment of silence passes between them. (Y/N)'s playful smile softens as well as she looks up at him, suddenly becoming very aware of his proximity as his arm and shoulder gently press into her own.

(Y/N) softly clears her throat as she looks away a bit shyly and shifts in her seat, her eyes then flicking upward to the night sky. She lets out a soft yarn as she closes her book, slowly rising as Arthur's eyes follow her.

"We should get some sleep if we're gonna get that bear tomorrow," she mentions softly, trying to ignore how much she missed his warmth as she steps towards her sleeping roll. "Haven't seen Hosea this excited in a bit. It's nice."

Arthur watches her as she lowers onto her sleeping roll, tucking her book in her satchel near it.

"It is," he agrees, his voice gentle as he closes his sketchbook and rises as well.

He settles into his own sleeping roll with a deep sigh as he sets his hat aside, the two laying on their backs as they look up at the night sky. (Y/N) exhales softly as she shifts, rolling to lay on her side as she gets comfortable.

"Goodnight, Arthur," she murmurs softly, her eyes fluttering shut as her body begins to relax.

Arthur swallows thickly, nodding even though she couldn't see him.

"Night, darlin'," he whispers back, his voice lowered and more intimate.

A few moments pass as Arthur listens for her breathing to slow and steady, the man sighing deeply. He turns onto his side facing her way, tilting his head upward to view her sleeping, peaceful face. The glow of the fire illuminates her features, his chest feeling tight as he settles. His eyes land on her limp hand on the sleeping roll near him, his own twitching at his side. He hesitantly reaches out, allowing his own to settle over it in a featherlight touch.

He holds his breath as she shifts, but she doesn't seem to wake, her form settling once more as she quietly breathes. Arthur sighs softly with relief, his hand gently squeezing her own as his thumb rubs along her knuckles. His eyes slowly fall shut as he drifts off, his hand remaining over her own as the fire continues to burn through the night.

-

Smoke trails upward into the early morning sky, the sound of wood crackling filling the air as Hosea feeds it a few remaining twigs. Coffee bubbles over the fire, Arthur beginning to slowly stir in his sleeping roll.

His hand instinctively squeezes to feel for (Y/N)'s— but he feels nothing. His eyes flutter open, a sense of disappointment filling him when he sees that she was no longer asleep, her sleeping roll gone where it had been laying.

Arthur slowly begins to sit up as he rubs his neck, stretching with a quiet groan. His eyes flick over to the sound of footsteps approaching, (Y/N) smiling at the man softly as she lowers to his level.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she fondly greets, holding out a rag with some warmed rabbit meat resting on it.

"Mornin'," Arthur murmurs in return, his voice husky from sleep as he takes the rag with a grateful nod.

(Y/N) lowers to sit beside him as she holds her own chunk of meat, happily munching on the tender meat. The horses graze on grass nearby, already saddled up and ready to head out. Hosea rises from his crouched spot near the fire and approaches the two with two cups of coffee, holding them out to the two.

"Coffee?" Hosea asks cheerfully.

"Sure," Arthur replies as he takes one of the cups.

(Y/N) reaches out, taking the other with a nod. "Thanks, Hosea."

Hosea nods with a grin, turning and approaching his stool. He lowers to sit on the stool, sighing softly as he begins to eat his own food while enjoying his coffee. The three eat their breakfast and enjoy their coffees, the morning songs of birds heard from the trees.

"So... what's your plan?" Arthur questions curiously, taking a large bite of the meat and chewing slowly.

Hosea finishes his piece and tucks his rag away, sipping his coffee and exhaling deeply. "Well... we'll see if we can track him, but... we might need to lay bait to draw him out." He nods his head. "Bears like fish, obviously, but they also have a sweet tooth," he informs with a smile.

Hosea downs the remainder of his coffee, rising as he folds his stool up to pack away with his rolled sleeping roll. He lowers and picks up the rolled sleeping roll, striding over towards Silver Dollar.

"A lot of fellers bait then shoot from the trees," Hosea continues. "But I prefer to hunt on the ground. More dangerous, but between the three of us, we'll have a much better chance of getting a good shot in." He tucks the sleeping roll and stool away on Silver Dollar's saddle. "And if he bolts, we can start right off after him."

He takes out a rag from his saddlebag, showing it to the two, something wrapped inside of it.

"I made this before (Y/N) woke," Hosea explains as he lifts the rag. "Predator bait. Potent stuff. Made from fish meat and blackberries."

(Y/N)'s nose crinkles at the combination, the mental thought of the flavor making her wince as she forces down the last bite of her food. She clears her throat as she drinks her coffee, rising and dusting her jeans off.

"Least you know what you're doing," Arthur comments as he finishes his food and coffee as well, rising.

"I grew up in the mountains, Arthur! I was virtually weaned on bear meat," Hosea proudly states, earning a laugh from (Y/N) as Arthur snickers.

Hosea chuckles, tucking the bait back into his saddlebag carefully.

-

The three worked together to clean up the camp, Arthur kicking dirt into the unlit campfire, white smoke bleeding into the sky. (Y/N) sits on her horse, Hosea already on Silver Dollar as well. Arthur slings his satchel on and strides over to Lance, mounting the horse and settling with a heavy sigh.

"We'll try our luck down by the water. That's where I had saw him last," Hosea tells the two as he guides Silver Dollar forward.

(Y/N) nods at this as she and Arthur follow, the three making their way down a subtle decline towards the lake.

"How're your horses treating you?" Hosea questions with interest and genuine curiosity.

"Perfect," (Y/N) answers without hesitation, fondly stroking (H/N)'s neck as she smiles brightly. She's a little skittish, but... that's to be expected if those men were hurtin' her."

Arthur reaches down and pats Lance's neck, earning a huff from the beast. "He's doin' alright, too."

Hosea smiles with relief, pleased they were happy with their new horses. He looks over to Arthur. "Did you ever name him?"

Arthur nods. "Yeah, did last night with (Y/N)'s help," he replies as he adjusts in his saddle. "Lancelot. Lance for short."

Hosea's eyes spark with recognition of the name. "Ah, Lancelot?" he fondly murmurs, nodding with approval. "A fine name for the unruly beast, for sure."

The three ride in a line along the narrow path running alongside the lake, the morning sunlight shimmering like diamonds on the water's surface. It's almost blinding, the sound of rushing water filling the air the closer the three get to the lake.

"You know, I was in this area with Bessie, years ago," Hosea softly comments.

(Y/N) looks up at this, the familiar name making her heart clench. Bessie was a lovely woman, kind and soft-spoken, and she and Annabelle were thick as thieves. She recalled how patient and motherly she was, as well as the way she and Hosea acted with one another.

It was like something right out of one of Mary-beth's storybooks. But one day, the woman got sick, and... there was nothing that could be done. She passed shortly after. Devastated Hosea, and she could recall that he wasn't around much after that, always heading to nearby towns for the saloons no doubt.

She wasn't sure how she'd handle it, losing someone she loved to a disease without a cure. It was something you can't fight— can't shoot at, can't make the pain go away. Having to watch someone so dear to you suffer and slowly become weaker and weaker must have been hell on Earth. (Y/N) shakes her head, softly clearing her throat.

"Were you?" (Y/N) looks out to the lake, smiling faintly. "It's beautiful out here. I'm sure she enjoyed it."

Hosea chuckles wistfully, nodding his head. "Oh, she did."

Arthur exhales deeply, his eyes watching the lake for a moment. "I imagine you still miss her," he quietly says.

Hosea sighs quietly, nodding his head. "Every day," he answers truthfully, his voice full of longing and sadness.

"I'm surprised you two never got out of this life. To settle down," (Y/N) mentions with curious interest, her voice still softened as she recalls Bessie.

"Ah, well... we did briefly. It was a year or two before we picked you up," Hosea replies, shaking his head. "It didn't last long. I drifted back into it. She understood... she knew what I was."

(Y/N)'s eyes dart to the man's back, her features softening with sympathy as she senses regret in his words, his voice even faintly trembling as he quietly sniffles.

"I remember you not being around for a while," Arthur speaks up with sympathy. "But things were looser back then."

Hosea lets out a heavy breath. "Truth is, there's never really any getting out," he admits with a hint of bitterness. "And staying in... it's hard, you know that. But Bessie and I made it work." He clears his throat, the man glancing back over his shoulder to (Y/N). "Why? Are you two thinking of getting out?"

(Y/N) blinks rapidly, caught off guard by the sudden question. "What? Oh, uh..." She hesitates, clearing her throat as she shakes her head. "Of course not."

She couldn't help but feel guilty that she finds the idea almost pleasant.

Hosea watches her for a few moments before facing forward. "Listen, if Dutch's grand plans works, and we can make enough money to go some place new... really new..." he trails off for a moment, his tone hopeful. "Maybe we can all have a fresh start," he finishes meaningfully.

(Y/N) tilts her head, taking in his words. "A fresh start..."

She looks down in thought at this, her hands tightening around the reins of her horse.

"Sounds nice," Arthur's voice chimes in, catching her off guard.

She looks back at the man over her shoulder, Arthur's eyes already on hers and surprisingly intense. The brim of his hat dips into his forehead, his lips twinged up in a small, amused smirk at her obvious surprise. Her face becomes warm as her heart skips a beat, the woman quickly facing forward as she feels herself smile.

"Anyway, for now, let's try and chase ourselves a bear, shall we?" Hosea calls back to the two, changing the subject as he nods ahead. "Let's look by the water here, see if he's been fishing again recently."

They near the edge of the lake and scare off some birds nearby, the three slowing their horses down to a trot as they head off the path towards the shoreline. The wet dirt sinks slightly beneath the weight of the horses, Hosea slowing Silver Dollar and dismounting him with a soft grunt.

"Look for tracks, dung, bones... any sign of him," he speaks, motioning around the area.

"I'll keep an eye around us while you two look," (Y/N) suggests, not relishing in the thought of being caught off guard by a bear.

Arthur dismounts Lance and sets off to help Hosea look around, (Y/N) leaning her forearms comfortably on the horn of her saddle. She idly strokes (H/N)'s neck and mane, causing her to softly nicker at the touch as she remains still and steady. Arthur's eyes scan the ground slowly, the man's eyes lighting up as he sees a large indention in the soft ground.

"Some paw marks here, Hosea," he calls to the older man, crouching down and looking over them. "They sure look big enough."

"Good, let's hope it's him," Hosea excitedly replies as he approaches, tilting his head as he views the tracks with interest.

"They go off that way." Arthur motions forward with a jerk of his chin.

(Y/N) dismounts (H/N) as she grabs her rifle, trusting (H/N) to stay in the area with Silver Dollar and Lance. She pats her horse's side before pulling away, yawning softly and approaching the two men as Arthur begins to lead the two forward.

Arthur walks slowly as his eyes restlessly flick along the ground, the tracks leading the three up along a small incline in the grass. The tracks lead them onto the path and continue onward on it for a small bit, then it veers off.

"The tracks go into those trees," Arthur tells the two, motioning to the trees, with a hand.

"Look at you, a genuine tracker!" (Y/N) praises teasingly in a whisper. "Mr. Smith would be proud!"

Arthur grumbles and lightly rolls his eyes at this, but the compliment makes him smile as his chest floods with warmth. His eyes continue to follow the tracks as he leads the two, his brow furrowing as they start to fade, disappearing into a thick patch of grass that cakes the muddy ground.

"Lost 'em," he quietly murmurs as he crouches down, resting his forearms on his knees as he looks along the ground closely.

Hosea stands near Arthur while keeping an eye on the area around them wielding his rifle, (Y/N) holding her own rifle as she begins to walk ahead. She glances around warily as she walks slowly, her steps light and quiet against the grass. A startled yelp leaves her when she steps onto something squishy as a faint cracking sound could be heard, her eyes snapping down.

A groan of disgust leaves her, catching Hosea and Arthur's attention. Arthur rises as he and Hosea rush over, (Y/N) huffing.

"Found his dinner, I think," she tells the two as she nods downward, a mauled, half-eaten fish carcass hidden in the grass.

It was now smooshed, as she had stepped on it. (Y/N) looks to Arthur and grabs hold of his arm, the man not protesting as she uses him to keep her balance, grumbles leaving her as she wipes the bottom of her boot off on the grass.

"Good work, my dear girl," Hosea praises with a chuckle, amused by her reaction. "Let's keep going this way."

(Y/N) slowly releases Arthur's arm as she steadies her footing, the three continuing forward. They make their way through tall, overgrown grass as a few birds caw overhead, some animals scampering about as they run away. The grass begins to thin out and gives away to dirt once again, Arthur's eyes locking onto more tracks as he nods.

"Yup, tracks continue up here," Arthur mentions as he steps forward, pausing as he notices something. "There's somethin' else on the ground here."

He crouches down to inspect the ground, (Y/N) approaching as he lifts his hand. She comes to a stop at this, tilting her head.

"Bear shit here. Watch your step," he warns. "Don't need you steppin' on his lunch and the aftermath of it, too."

(Y/N) lets out a chortle, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Why, thank you for the warning."

Hosea lowers down to look over the dung, nodding his head. "Looks real fresh,"

"Smells it, too," (Y/N) comments as she steps away, her nose wrinkled.

"Reckon he's gotta be close," Hosea's voice is full of wonder and delight, the man looking around.

The three continue on towards an incline in the trees, the tracks again vanishing into thick, lush grass. A long incline is ahead, the mountains past it curving in a bowl-like shape that envelopes the wooded area no doubt. Boulders line along the side of the mountain near the three, the ground beneath them a mixture of rocks and grass, tall trees on either side of them.

"Damn it, looks like the trail ends here," Arthur grumbles softly as he looks around, slowing to a stop as he scratches the back of his head.

Hosea lowers to inspect the ground, a thoughtful look on his face as he shifts to rest on his knee. (Y/N) glances around the area, noticing there was a lack of small animals nearby. It was a little unsettling, but she chalked it up to the animals just having fled because of their presence.

"We lost him?" Arthur questions gruffly.

"For now," Hosea drawls lightly, grunting lightly as he rises and dusts off his knee. "A little optimism, Arthur," he teases, bumping his elbow to the man's arm.

(Y/N) nods in agreement. "Yeah, c'mon. I'm sure we can find this mountain of a bear. Can't be far if its dinner and shit was nearby," she encourages with amusement.

"I'm sure we can as well," Hosea agrees as he looks around the area, his eyes locking onto the incline ahead. We should split up, each take a look."

Arthur frowns as he motions down to the ground. "Either that, or we could place the bait here."

Hosea considers this, nodding slowly. "That could work. Which you think?"

(Y/N) looks along the ground thoughtfully. "Think we should lay the bait. Splittin' up doesn't sound like a good idea when huntin' a bear," she comments with a hint of apprehension. "Would be safer if we stayed together.

"Fine by me." Hosea slings his rifle over his shoulder, motioning towards a large boulder pressing to the side of the mountain. "Let's leave the bag over there. By those boulders up ahead looks like a good spot for it."

Hosea leads the two further up the hill, (Y/N) taking position at another large boulder a few steps back. Arthur and Hosea continue forward to place the bait, (Y/N) leaning against the boulder as her eyes scan along the trees closely for any sign of trouble.

"Here seems good," Hosea tells Arthur, the two coming to a stop.

Hosea lowers down as he fishes the wrapped up bait from his satchel, the man setting it down on the gravel. He unwinds the fabric as he mushes the bait a bit, Arthur keeping watch on the area as he shifts his weight on his feet.

With a nod, Hosea rises as he dusts his hands off. "Now... we wait."

Arthur and Hosea make their way to where (Y/N) was, Hosea lowering down to crouch and lean against the boulder as he peers out to the bait. Arthur remains standing as he peers out as well, (Y/N) opting to step onto a smaller chunk of rock to peer over the boulder as they wait with bated breath.

"You said this thing's... a thousand pounds?" Arthur questions, his voice a quiet whisper.

"More or less. Big scar down his face," Hosea replies, shifting restlessly as he stares towards the bait.

A beat of silence occurs, the seconds seeming to tick by slowly.

Hosea softly clears his throat. "Hey... did that bait look okay to you, Arthur?"

Arthur's brow lifts at the question. "I think so? You're the expert," he replies with a hint of uncertainty.

The older man shifts again, glancing to the two. "Ready with your guns?"

(Y/N) glances downward to the two, Arthur's head turning her way as they exchange a glance.

"Uh..." (Y/N) rests her rifle on the boulder, nodding. "Of course."

Arthur's eyes flick down to Hosea. "You okay? You seem nervous."

"So do you," Hosea deflects, a faint tremor to his voice.

(Y/N)'s face softens at this, the woman sighing quietly. "Huntin' a bear's no easy thing. I'd call you stupid if neither of you were nervous," she comments as she looks ahead once more, her eyes watching the older man with concern. "But you do seem a bit jittery. Sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Hosea gently reassures, not looking back as he keeps his eyes on the bait.

(Y/N)'s expression indicates she doesn't believe him, but she doesn't push it either. Another few seconds pass by, her eyes flicking around the area for movement of any kind.

"Let's just... take a look at that bait," Hosea impatiently murmurs as he rises.

Arthur and (Y/N) exchange another look as Hosea starts to make his way to the bait, (Y/N) stepping off the rock as she and Arthur quickly follow after the man.

"Okay..." she agrees hesitantly, frowning. "But I think it's fine."

"She's right, we only just set it, Hosea," Arthur points out with a hint of amusement, finding Hosea's uncharacteristic antsy behavior mildly amusing.

Hosea sighs softly. "I know, but we need to do this right."

Neither protest again as they follow the man to the bait, (Y/N) looking around warily as she hangs back a few paces. She feels a flicker of unease and alarm pass through her as the singing of birds abruptly stops, and the forest seems... too still.

"Give me a hand here, Arthur. Got your knife?" Hosea faintly questions Arthur, crouching down with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Course," Arthur mumbles back, unsheathing his hunting knife.

Arthur kneels down with Hosea to help the man with the bait, poking and cutting at the bait to make it more fragrant as he breaks it apart. (Y/N) restlessly looks around as the forest remains silent, feeling on edge as she grips her rifle tightly. Her eyes snap ahead, her eyes widening and her face paling.

"Arthur! Hosea!" she sharply whispers.

Hosea's eyes snap up at her warning, his face falling and his eyes widening with horror. Arthur freezes as a low growl rattles through his bones, his eyes slowly shifting upward as the ground beneath him seems to vibrate.

The legendary bear they'd been hunting was approaching slowly, its deep, cold brown eyes fixated on the two men as it salivates. Its maw parts as it roars, rising back onto its hind legs and swiping a claw in the air. It huffs deeply as it drags its claws on the ground, roars and growls leaving it.

"Shit..." Hosea whispers shakily, his hands lifted out in a defensive manner. "Easy..."

Both men slowly rise, Arthur tightly gripping his knife as he and Hosea face the bear. (Y/N) watches with wide eyes as she takes him, slowly stepping forward.

"(Y/N), stay back," Hosea urgently orders with protectiveness, the man breathing heavily as he looks up at the massive beast. "It's too close—!"

The bear starts to charge on all fours with a deafening roar, spit flinging from its mouth. (Y/N) fires multiple shots, a few missing and others striking the thick fat of the bear and piercing tufts of fur off him. Arthur drops his knife and swiftly draws his pistol, lifting it and firing at the bear's ear, shooting through it.

The bear lets out a roar of agony as it stumbles, rapidly shaking its head out. It backs away hastily as it continues to shake its head, (Y/N) firing at it as it turns tail and runs off with a speed that was terrifying. It disappears up the incline deeper into the trees, its roars becoming distant and echoing through the forest.

Arthur pants softly as he looks back to (Y/N) with wide eyes, her expression mirroring her own. Her hands tremble around her rifle with lingering adrenaline as she lowers it, Arthur holstering his pistol and picking the knife he'd dropped up as he sheathes it. He nods to (Y/N) wordlessly, and she does the same, her eyes flicking around and landing on Hosea.

The older man clutches at his chest as he leans against the boulder near them, the man obviously shaken up as he breathes heavily.

Arthur breathes out deeply, approaching and patting a hand on Hosea's shoulder. "You're fine, old man," he assures.

"Of course I'm fine!" Hosea breathlessly replies as he waves a dismissive hand, obviously not fine.

(Y/N) huffs, swatting at Arthur's arm gently. "Oh, leave him be." She watches Hosea push off the boulder and rub his back, frowning with worry. "You okay?"

"Yes, don't worry. It's nothing," Hosea reassures her with a shaky smile, clearing his throat as his fingers smooth his disarrayed hair back.

His hand lifts as he whistles sharply for his horse, the sound piercing through the wind. A brief moment passes before Silver Dollar comes trotting through the trees loyally, followed by (H/N) and Lance, who had followed the older horse instinctively when he'd left.

"That was fun!" Arthur declares with a breathless chuckle, approaching Lance and patting his neck.

(Y/N) snorts as she shakes her head, approaching (H/N) and holstering her rifle into the saddle. "Aside from the whole... almost getting mauled by the bear bit," she dryly points out.

Hosea lets out a weary laugh at this, Silver Dollar approaching the older man and whickering gently. He reaches out to stroke the horse's side fondly, leaning against the animal a bit as he holsters his rifle into the saddle.

"You know what? I'm a little old and beaten up to be after the biggest game," Hosea admits, Silver Dollar standing steady as he allows Hosea to lean into him.

(Y/N) clicks her tongue and waves her hand, mounting (H/N). "Aw, don't say that. You've still got plenty of years left," she tells him encouragingly,

"I sure hope so," Hosea shakily laughs out, the man mounting Silver Dollar and settling with a sigh. "I think I'm going back to camp to lick my wounds. You two coming?"

Arthur mounts Lance as he nods, grasping the reins of the horse. "Of course."

"Let's get going then."

With that, Hosea leads the way back to camp.

The three ride on together at a comfortable speed, the silence filled with occasional stories and laughter that made each feel as though nothing had changed despite the events of Blackwater.

Hosea always had a way of making even the most mundane stories sound like the most exciting thing in the world, and he was always there for them when they needed him most, reassuring them with his confidence and soothing them with his gentle care. With the older man helping to lead alongside Dutch, both had a feeling things would turn out okay.

Chapter Text

The trio arrive at camp within a couple hours of riding, the time late morning and the sun shining overhead. The temperature was comfortable, if not just a tad warm with the sunlight directly on them. The three ride side by side along the trail, but as it becomes narrower when they enter the trees, Hosea allows (Y/N) to take the lead, Arthur riding at the very back with Hosea in between them.

"Thank you two, for coming with me. It was fun," Hosea softly speaks with fondness as they ride into camp.

Arthur nods at this, dismounting Lance with a soft grunt. "Of course. We're always up for it," he tells the older man, patting Lance's neck.

(Y/N) smiles as she dismounts as well, running her hand along (H/N)'s coat. "It was nice. Peaceful, aside from the actual bear," she says with a small grin.

Hosea lets out a hearty, raspy laugh at this, dismounting Silver Dollar and giving the horse a few pats along his flank. He sighs with a soft smile as he looks around the camp, his features slowly becoming thoughtful and apprehensive.

"You know, Reverend has been gone for a while," he comments out loud to the two, sighing deeply. "I think he said he was heading over to Flatneck Station yesterday. Would you both mind going to check on him?" he questions.

(Y/N) looks to the man, her brow lifting a fraction. "Don't trust him alone?"

"No," Hosea answers without hesitation.

Arthur snorts and rolls his eyes, sighing heavily with mild annoyance at having to fetch the man. "Alright, we will."

Hosea smiles at this with a nod, his thumb coming up to scratch at his eyebrow. "Thank you both." The older man places his hands on his lower back, stretching out with a quiet groan. "And now, I'm going to abuse my status as an old man and go and read for a while," he declares as he straightens up, sighing softly.

(Y/N) sighs at this, huffing with amusement. "You're not that old, Hosea," she replies pointedly.

Hosea softly chuckles, warmth in his gaze. "Thank you, my dear girl."

With that, Hosea turns and makes his way deeper into camp, leaving the two alone. (Y/N) grabs hold of (H/N)'s reins, gently stroking her neck as she guides her over to a pile of hay— no doubt fed to the horses this morning. Arthur does the same with Lance, both allowing their horses a chance to have a decent meal.

"I wanna change before we head out, if that's alright," (Y/N) tells Arthur with a small smile, glancing over to the man.

Arthur nods at this. "Course. I'll do the same." He gives Lance a firm pat before stepping away to let the horse eat. "Gives the horses a chance to rest for a short bit."

(Y/N) nods in return, both making their way to their own small setups. Arthur lowers to sit on his cot as (Y/N) disappears inside of her tent with the tent flapping shut behind her, the woman opening her trunk with a soft sigh.

She didn't manage to save much of her clothes from Blackwater, but she was thankful she grabbed enough. She'd definitely need to buy a few more at some point. For now, she settles on a comfortable, yellow plaid striped shirt, the top button left undone and her collar adjusted to not be crooked. She tugs on a new, older pair of jeans, the color a bit faded from age. She then slid her boots on, sliding her gunbelt through the loops of the pants and adjusting it.

Feeling better now that she was changed, she steps out of her tent, her (E/C) eyes scanning around the camp. She spots Arthur near the horses wearing a white collared shirt, the sleeves of it rolled up and buttoned at the insides of his elbows. A black neck scarf was around his neck loosely, suspenders along his shoulders and chest. He seems to be murmuring to the horses as they eat, the man running a brush along Lance's coat. She smiles at the sight, glad the man seemed to already be getting along with his new horse.

Leaving him to bond with the animal, (Y/N) decides to check in on the ladies for just a minute before they head out. She makes her way towards their sleeping area, Tilly, Karen and Mary-beth sitting on the furs lining the ground side by side. They had a few tubs of soapy, dirty water in front of them, their sleeves rolled up as they worked on scrubbing away at a pile of dirty clothes.

"Hey, ladies," (Y/N) greets as she strolls closer, nodding to them with a fond smile. "How's it going?"

"Awful."

"Same old same old."

"Alright."

The three reply in unison, Mary-beth cheery as always, Karen more indifferent and Tilly surprisingly bitter and seeming agitated, her brow furrowed and her expression twisted.

"You okay, Tilly?" (Y/N) questions lightly with a frown, her head tilting and noticeable concern evident in her eyes.

"No," Tilly answers with a small pout, shaking her head as her hand comes up to rub at her head. "I ain't feeling well and I'm still being made to work by Grimshaw," she complains, shaking her head.

"She's been on a nasty tirade lately," Mary-beth chimes in with a concerned frown, her hand reaching over to grasp Tilly's in a comforting manner.

(Y/N)'s brows raise at this, the woman humming. "Has she?"

Karen snorts softly, rolling her eyes. "Hoo, I wish she'd try me the way she does y'all. I ain't taking any of her shit," she declares boldly, (Y/N) knowing full well Karen wasn't lying.

"Why's she been so crabby?" (Y/N) asks with confusion, her arms folding over her chest as she leans against the tent post beside her.

"Abigail's refusin' to work," Karen replies with a sigh, aggressively scrubbing at a shirt. "Good on her, but makes more work for us. Hell, I'd do the same, but I don't wanna leave it all to them." She motions with her head to Tilly and Mary-beth, Tilly rubbing at her head.

(Y/N) nods, frowning at this. "Where's Mrs. Adler been?"

Mary-beth glances over, her lips pressing together as she shakes her head. "Oh, well... I don't want to make her work, she's been through so much." Her eyes flick around briefly. "Not that she's even been around much. She usually sits on the stump by the cliff alone."

(Y/N)'s features soften at this, and she nods with understanding. "I see." She straightens up, sighing and clearing her throat. "I'm going to talk to Abigail. I know it's annoying, but she should be helping you all out, even just for a bit."

"Thanks, (Y/N)," Karen calls as the woman starts to head off.

"See you later," Mary-beth calls as well.

"Bye now," Tilly chimes.

(Y/N)'s eyes flick through camp, knowing that Abigail couldn't be far. The camp, while decently spaced, was still a bit small, and she knew Abigail wouldn't go anywhere far with Jack being here. She rounds a tent, pausing as she hears the faint voice of Abigail. Her eyes dart ahead, catching glimpse of the woman standing behind John, the man sitting on a log with an opened book on his lap.

"Will you go rest, please?" Abigail exasperatedly speaks.

"Quit fussing. I'm fine," he dismisses irritably.

(Y/N) hesitates as they speak to one another, not wanting to interrupt the two.

"You almost got yourself eaten, you silly man!" Abigail points out, undeniable fondness in her voice despite her words. She reaches out, her fingers gently and tenderly brushing some of his messy hair from his forehead. "You're a long ways from being fine."

John bristles at her touch, leaning away. "Just—" He stifles a sharp sigh, his grip tightening on his book. "Let me rest in the sun. It's good for me." The man shifts awkwardly on the log, turning his head away as his eyes fixate on his book. "Only... talking ain't so good for me..." he adds in a pointed grumble.

(Y/N)'s lips press together at this as her eyes flick to Abigail, wincing. She wasn't able to see the woman's face with her back to her, but she notices her stiffen. Her hand lingers in the air before dropping, her hand curling into a fist and trembling faintly.

"You..." Abigail exhales sharply, turning on her heel and stomping away. "Silly little man!" she spits over her shoulder angrily, the faintest hint of hurt weaving with the venom.

"Whatever you say!" John calls back aggressively and indifferently, waving a dismissive hand as he returns his focus to his book.

(Y/N) watches Abigail storm off with a softened frown, her eyes snapping to John as she scowls with disapproval. A huff leaves her as she marches over, her hand darting out and slapping the side of his head in a swift motion, an audible thump occurring.

"Hey!" John yelps with surprise and anger, his head whipping back as he glares sharply.

However, John's glare falters at the sight of (Y/N), the woman giving him an even sharper glare. He looks away at this, clearing his throat gruffly and looking much like a petulant child.

"What was that for?" he grumbles with annoyance, rubbing his head lightly.

"For bein' mean," (Y/N) replies evenly, her expression becoming blank as her arms fold over her chest. "Abigail's only worried for you. You could at least try to be a bit nicer."

John sighs sharply with frustration at her scolding, his head rolling on his shoulders in an irritated manner. He shifts on the log, huffing.

"I just need some space from all her fussin'. It's too much," he replies with exasperation, shaking his head.

(Y/N) pinches the bridge of her nose, lowering her hand with a deep breath. "Would you rather be cold and indifferent like she had been in the mountains after you hurt her feelings?" she questions bluntly, noticing he winces ever so slightly. "I swear, you're more prickly than a damn cactus sometimes." She rests her hands on her hips, shaking her head at him with disapproval. "You'll appreciate her fussing someday. And when you do, I hope it ain't too late."

John's brows knit together, his nose crinkling slightly. His lips twist down as his gaze flicks to the side, his expression scrunched. (Y/N) isn't sure if he's considering her words or just annoyed by her scolding, the woman sighing as she turns and follows the direction Abigail had stormed off in.

She doesn't have to go far, and finds Abigail pacing along the cliff, her arms folded over her chest as she mutters under her breath angrily.

"Abigail," (Y/N) calls softly.

Abigail glances at her as her pacing slows, a pained and frustrated look on her face, the woman sighing and her speed increasing once more as she doesn't reply.

(Y/N) frowns as she stands, her eyes following Abigail as she continues to pace. "Try... not to take John's behavior to heart," she gently tells her, shaking her head as she rubs the side of her neck. "I know that it must hurt, bein' brushed off callously by someone you love—"

Abigail bristles at the words, but doesn't protest, her brows twitching and furrowing.

"— but even when we were younger, he was always an idiot with other people's feelings," (Y/N) finishes.

"Hmph." Abigail huffs angrily, shaking her head. "I wish the damn man got eaten on the mountains— would've saved us all havin' to deal with his surly behavior!" she sharply speaks, her pacing not slowing.

(Y/N) exhales with a hint of amusement, her brow raising. "Right..." she drawls sarcastically, her lips pursing. "You and I both know you don't mean that."

Abigail grumbles lightly at this, but she hesitates, the woman exhaling deeply. She comes to a stop as her folded arms slowly lower, and she turns to (Y/N) with an uncertain expression, lingering hurt in her eyes.

"Maybe," Abigail quietly concedes. "Thanks."

(Y/N) offers her a small smile, tilting her head. "For what?" She lifts a dismissive hand, signalling that it was no trouble. A brief moment of silence passes, the woman perking. "Oh. I wanted to talk to you, about helpin' the girls out."

Abigail instantly seems indifferent, her nose scrunching as she exhales a sharp breath.

(Y/N) speaks before Abigail and protest, her words soft and convincing, "I know it can be hard, havin' to... follow Miss Grimshaw's orders and do the chores, especially while you have little Jack to watch over, but if you could just take a bit of time to help them... they're really struggling to keep up without you there."

"I..." Abigail sighs, a soft groan leaving her before she nods her head. "It ain't fair for them to have to do my share. I'll... help them out again. But if Grimshaw gets on my damn nerves..." she trails off meaningfully, a dangerous glint in her blue eyes.

"I'll leave that up to you," (Y/N) answers with a hint of amusement and understanding. "Thank you. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

Abigail chuckles softly and nods her head, her eyes darting to the side as she glances behind (Y/N).

"Looks like you're gonna be whisked away," Abigail comments with amusement, (Y/N) looking back and spotting Arthur approaching. "I'll talk to you later. Keep safe out there."

Abigail reaches out and squeezes her shoulder with a smile, her hand falling as she heads off towards the girls.

"See you, Abigail," (Y/N) calls after her.

(Y/N) turns to Arthur with a sheepish smile, straightening up as the man draws closer.

"Hey." She closes the distance between them. "Sorry for disappearing. Wanted to check on the girls."

"I don't mind," Arthur replies with a hint of amusement, shaking his head. "Horses are fed and I brushed 'em." A snort leaves him. "Your (H/N) is a feisty one. Damn near bit my thumb off."

"What?" (Y/N) questions with a baffled laugh, walking alongside the man towards the horses.

Arthur huffs as they come to a stop near the horses, (H/N) seeming to eye Arthur warily as her ears flick back briefly. Her bangs fall into her icy blue eyes, a snort leaving her as she shakes her head.

"I was gonna try and trim her bangs for you, but she... didn't like that," Arthur replies as he eyes the horse in return.

Lance whinnies softly, Arthur swearing that his horse was laughing at him. Lance pads closer as his tail flicks away some flies, (Y/N) noticing that Arthur had trimmed the mighty beast's mane a bit, his dark brown eyes more visible now.

(Y/N) hums softly as she steps towards (H/N), the animal's ears pricking forward. A soft whicker leaves her as she steps closer, her nostrils flaring as she huffs softly. (Y/N) reaches out, letting her sniff at her palm before she runs it along her snout, her eyes admiring the color of her mane.

"Where's the scissors?" (Y/N) questions with amusement, stroking her other hand along (H/N)'s neck.

"Here," Arthur grabs the scissors off a barrel next to him and passes them to (Y/N), (H/N) giving him a side-eye as the man steps back. "Little hellfire," he grumbles under his breath with fondness.

(Y/N) lets out a bark of laughter at the man's apprehension, her fingers gently smoothing along (H/N)'s bangs. "Oh, hush," she fondly says. "She's a little angel!"

"Sure," Arthur sarcastically drawls, rolling his eyes as his arms fold over his chest. "Just be careful, now."

"It's fine," (Y/N) muses reassuringly. "Isn't it, girl?" she coos softly.

(H/N) lets out a soft nicker as (Y/N)'s fingers gently stroke through her bangs, (Y/N) carefully measuring a decent length. She brings the scissors up slowly, gently cooing and murmuring to the horse as she begins to snip at the hair, (H/N) standing still. After a few snips, (Y/N) lowers the scissors, the small tufts of mane fluttering into the wind and grass.

"There, that's better," (Y/N) fondly speaks to the horse, setting the scissors aside and stroking along her snout with a bright smile.

She glances back and catches Arthur staring at her with a soft expression— one that makes her heart skip a beat. The man clears his throat as his eyes quickly avert away, a flush spreading on his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck.

"Uh— looks good," Arthur speaks gruffly, his frame turning away as he approaches Lance. "Ready to go?"

(Y/N) blinks quickly, watching the man mount his horse while avoiding looking at her. "Oh, um... yeah."

(Y/N) shakes off his strange behavior as she mounts (H/N), stroking the animal's neck as she guides her closer to Arthur and Lance. Lance's neck extends as he sniffs at (H/N)'s snout and muzzle, huffing against her bangs as she nickers and nudges him lightly. The two set out, heading through the brush and onto the main pain, their horses moving at a trotting pace.

"You know, I'm worried about Mrs. Adler," (Y/N) comments softly after a brief moment of silence, frowning.

Arthur softly grunts at this, the man scratching lightly at his growing stubble. "She has been through a lot. We all have," he agrees.

"Yeah..." (Y/N) frowns, sighing softly. "It's just terrible, what happened. I can't imagine what she went through. I hope she can overcome her grief, but I know it won't be easy." Her voice is soft and sympathetic, her features twisted with sadness as she thinks about the widow.

"It won't be," Arthur gently agrees again.

(Y/N) and Arthur continue on the path in a comfortable silence, (Y/N) glancing at the man every so often from the corner of his eye. Sometimes, she wish she knew exactly what he was thinking. She also wished she'd be brave enough to just ask. The way he'd been watching her tend to (H/N) had made her heart race, a flicker of something dangerous filling her— hope. Hope that he could see her as more than a close friend.

She fidgets a bit as she exhales sharply, trying to banish such thoughts from her head.

She clears her throat, trying to seem nonchalant but most likely coming across as tense. "It's kinda funny how we were almost bear food this morning, and now, we're enjoying a horse ride," she jokes, clearing her throat once more as she sheepishly laughs.

To her delight, Arthur lets out a snort before chuckling deeply, the sound making her head spin as her cheeks become warm.

"Our lives are certainly funny that way," he drawls with amusement, giving her a side-glance with a grin.

(Y/N) beams back, her eyes averting down as she reaches out to gently stroke (H/N)'s mane. "I still can't believe Hosea found these horses for us. It was so kind of him to even... consider us. He could've sold them for a decent amount."

She suddenly perks up with an idea, her eyes darting to Arthur as her grin grows. This causes his brow to raise in silent question, the man used to her antics after years of friendship.

"Hey. How about a race?" she eagerly questions as she tilts her head, motioning to the train tracks that cross their path. "Flatneck Station ain't far, if we stick to the tracks it'll take us right to it."

Arthur's eyes light up at the idea, his interest piqued.

"A race, huh?" he drawls lightly as he rides closer to the woman. "Ain't had one of those in a while. Not since you ended up in a cactus after your old horse threw ya."

(Y/N)'s cheeks become hot as her eyes widen, a groan leaving her as her hand reaches up to her face. "Oh, don't remind me!"

(Y/N) can still vividly recall the memory of back then, the two late teenagers during this time.

They'd been goofing off when they were moving their camp to find a spot to settle in for a few weeks, bored and eager for entertainment as Hosea and Dutch sat side by side in a caravan. They'd decided on a race despite Hosea's warnings of the landscape being a bit rough for her since she was still getting used to handling her horse, the two riding ahead at Dutch's amusement and approval while Hosea chided the man.

The two were neck and neck until there was an abrupt drop on the side of the land (Y/N) was riding on, her horse panicking and scrambling for purchase as he slid down the trail. She had struggled to grapple with her horse, and just then, a nasty looking rattlesnake was in their path, startling her horse into bucking and rearing back wildly.

This ended up with her falling off her horse with a scream, landing in a dead bush, a small but very sharp cactus wedged into it and piercing her backside. She'd been in intense pain as she struggled to get free from the bush due to her clothing being stuck on the bush and cactus, the rattlesnake slithering towards her as Arthur called to her frantically.

He had struggled to aim his pistol at the snake as Boadicea began to panic as well and nearly bucks him off, and (Y/N)'s horse thankfully had dashed over and stomped over the snake aggressively in her aid. Her horse had approached and bowed his head to her in apology as he sniffed at her, Arthur sliding off Boadicea and rushing to help her up as she struggled while complaining.

(Y/N) shakes her head at the memory, wincing as if still feeling the cactus needles. "It took hours to get all the needles out of my back, and my arm got all beat up, too."

Arthur grimaces and lets out a deep chuckle. "And I got an earful from Dutch and Hosea about watchin' you properly," he recalls with a shake of his head. "They ain't let us race after that."

A quiet, fond laugh leaves her as she smiles, her chest feeling heavy as she thinks of her old horse. He'd been good to her, often protecting her and loyal to the very end. A soft nicker from (H/N) gains her attention, her features softening as she strokes her neck tenderly.

"Come on, it's been over a decade, Arthur," (Y/N) encourages with a grin, turning to him. "I'm more experienced now, and certainly have no worries of falling into a cactus again." She motions around to the greenery. "What d'ya say?"

Arthur considers it with a thoughtful look, sighing heavily with mock exasperation and defeat. He knew full well he wasn't going to deny her— not when she looked adorable all hopeful and eager at the prospect of the race.

"You're on, darlin'," he agrees.

(Y/N)'s face brightens as she grins giddily, the woman nodding her head eagerly. "Alright. Loser has to..." she trails off with a soft hum, frowning. She shrugs. "I don't know. Oil our guns next time they're lookin' rough."

Arthur finds this amusing as he snorts and lightly rolls his eyes, knowing full well neither of them mind cleaning the others guns regardless of the competition.

"Sounds good to me," he drawls with amusement.

"Yes!" she softly cheers, adjusting in her saddle and straightening up as she grips the reins of her horse.  "Okay."

The two guide their horses to the tracks, pulling them to a stop. The horses stand on either side of the tracks, Lance and (H/N) seeming to sense the change in the air as Lance paws at the ground restlessly, (H/N) quietly nickering as she looks ahead eagerly. Arthur winds his hand once around his reins, relaxing his posture as his thighs squeeze the saddle of Lance gently, (Y/N) adjusting to her liking as well as she exhales deeply.

"Ready... set... go!" she announces excitedly.

With that, the two spur their horses into action, whinnies leaving the mighty animals. The two race along the tracks side by side, the sound of their hooves thundering on the ground as they run with intense speed. (Y/N) and Arthur both encourage their horses verbally or with gentle spurs of their heels, (H/N) starting to pull ahead with her nimble frame and breed.

As she gets further ahead, Lance whinnies, Arthur glancing down at the horse before exclaiming with surprise as the Shire starts to pick up speed. Lance snorts and breathes sharply and heavily as he runs, slowly starting to close the distance just as the Flatneck Station comes into view.

Just before he could catch up, they arrive, (Y/N) and Arthur both tugging the reins of their horses. (H/N) neighs fiercely as she slides to a stop smoothly, rearing back just a bit before steadying out with a snort and shake of her head. Lance skids to a stop and bounces for a moment as he corrects his footing, heaving breaths leaving both of the horses as he trots closer to (H/N).

"Atta girl, (H/N)! You did it!" (Y/N) cheers with a breathless laugh, her hair a bit disarrayed and a wide smile on her face as her eyes shine with delight.

Arthur chuckles as he watches her, unable to fight off the smile on his face. "Yeah, yeah. Good job, darlin'," he muses fondly, patting Lance's neck with encouragement.

(Y/N) beams happily, the two urging their horses into a walking speed towards the hitching posts lined along the platform's edges of the train station.

"Gotta admit, I was surprised by Lance's speed. He's quick for his size," she comments with lingering excitement, nodding as she dismounts (H/N).

"You and me both," Arthur states with a laugh, dismounting as well as they both tie their horses to the hitching post. "Good job there, boy."

Lance nickers lowly at this, his ears perking forward as he pants softly. Arthur pets along his snout, Lance lightly nudging into the touch for a brief moment before pulling away with a huff.

"Now, let's see what Reverend's gotten himself into," (Y/N) declares with less enthusiasm, the two walking side by side as they approach the opened door of the station.

The station itself wasn't grand at all, the size modest compared to the one located in Valentine. A tall windmill was near the water tower on the opposite sides of the tracks, a pen full of pigs and a worker tending to them near this. A wooden platform wrapped around the station, a dog running around as its excited barks filled the air. A worker swept the platform dutifully, the man nodding to the two in greeting as he continued working.

"Oh, come on!" they hear a man complaining inside.

The two enter the doorway, their eyes falling on Orville. He sat sloppily in his seat appearing very sluggish and dazed, two men sitting across from him seeming to be more aware, but also a bit drunk. The table between them was lined with cards and chips, as they were obviously gambling and playing.

Orville blinks slowly as he spots the two, smiling widely. "Mr. Morgan! Ah, and Miss (L/N)!" he greets joyously, laughing as he points to Arthur. "I took your advice, sir! I took your advice."

"Then your God has finally deserted you," Arthur bluntly replies with furrowed brows, gazing over his state with disgust. "What you talkin' about?"

"I took your advice, sir!" Orville repeats exasperatedly.

Orville starts to rise on clumsy legs, Arthur and (Y/N) exchanging a baffled look. Orville stumbles like a newborn foul learning to walk, staggering towards Arthur.

"I have removed myself from Morpheus' embrace!" Orville dramatically cries out.

(Y/N) blinks rapidly, shaking her head. "What now?"

Orville stumbles into Arthur and clings to the man, Arthur groaning softly with irritation and gritting his teeth. He gently guides Orville off him with a brush of his hand, sighing sharply.

"No more shall I sink! I am free! I am free!" Orville exclaims dramatically, his words a bit slurred.

"Free... a funny word for drunk off your shit, Reverend," (Y/N) bluntly tells the man, shaking her head at the stench of liquor coming off Orville.

"Sit down, Reverend. We ain't finished," one of the men speaks firmly, motioning to the chair.

(Y/N)'s brow raises at this. "Oh, I think you are there, friend." Her arms fold over her chest, a scoff leaving her as Orville stumbles along the room. "Look at him, he can hardly stand on his own two feet."

The man snorts, lifting his hands indifferently. "None of us forced liquor down his throat, sweetheart. I just want him to play."

(Y/N) bristles as she glares at the man icily, but before she could move, Arthur's hands were slamming down onto the wooden table. The chips stacked in piles scatter softly, the two men jolting as Arthur leans towards them menacingly.

"Now firstly, she ain't your sweetheart," Arthur growls at the two men, tilting his head towards (Y/N) with his intense eyes fixated on the man. "Don't make no mistake on that subject." He scoffs with disgust, his words quick and packed like a bullet. "Now, secondly, he can't hardly see, let alone reason. Now, reasoning ain't never been one of my strong points neither, but seeing I do just fine." His voice lowered dangerously, "You wanna step outside, or deal with business here?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flick to Arthur as her cheeks become warm, a thrill traveling through her as the man defends her. Her heart flutters and begins to pump in her ears as she swallows thickly, her jaw tightening as she tries to fight off the giddy smile that threatens to lift her lips. Arthur remains still like a statue, his eyes never leaving the man as his hand hovers near the handle of his pistol.

The man gulps loudly, his face pale and his eyes wide as he cowers back a fraction. "Look— I, I ain't mean to impose or nothin' on you and your woman, sir, I— I just want him to finish the game!" he exclaims helplessly with a hint of fear, lifting his hands in a surrendering motion.

Orville groans loudly as he sways. "Why can't we all just get along?" he whines as his voice cracks, shaking his head and motioning exaggeratedly to the men. "These are good men, Arthur. They're children of God! They're children of God."

(Y/N) sighs at this. "Are they now," she humors dryly, gasping as Orville topples over. "Oh!"

She steps back as he flops onto the hard, wooden floor, groaning lowly as he writhes a bit. (Y/N) and Arthur look to one another, (Y/N) sighing and rubbing at her temple as she contemplates how to deal with the drunk Orville Swanson.

The man laughs as he leans over the table to look down at Orville, exhaling sharply as he leans back in his seat. "Ah, well... how's about you play in his place, huh? That seems fair."

Arthur's brow lifts as his eyes narrow, the man straightening up. "Fair?" he repeats lowly and irritably.

"Sure. We finish this civilly," the man agrees, shrugging lightly with a small grin.

Arthur hesitates with a deep sigh of annoyance, part of him tempted to just shoot the man and be done. But another knows that he shouldn't kill him— he didn't really do anything, but damn did he piss him off. It was an ugly feeling, and Arthur faintly registers what it had been. Jealousy.

"I'll play ya."

(Y/N) steps forward, Arthur's attention snapping to the woman as his brows furrow deeply.

"Been a bit since I've played, but if it gets you to stop complainin' about it..." she continues with a small shrug.

Arthur watches her with a hint of apprehension, but he doesn't stop her as she approaches the seat. The other man, however, is visibly displeased, his mouth opening as he inhales to speak. However, his jaw snaps shut as Arthur gives him a dark, warning look, the man standing tall behind where (Y/N) sat as his hands rest on the back of the chair on either side of her.

"S— Sounds good," the man stammers, giving his friend a quick glance as his friend nods in agreement.

"Just one hand though," (Y/N) tells them, adjusting comfortably in her seat.

The man clears his throat softly as he grabs the deck, shuffling the cards thoroughly. He passes them out with practiced ease, (Y/N) lifting her hand and leaning her head to the side a bit to allow Arthur to view them.

"I'm Luther. This is Marvin," Luther, the man who'd called (Y/N) 'sweetheart' introduces, nodding to his friend.

"Pleasure," Marvin greets, nodding his head.

"Back at'cha," (Y/N) mumbles, not giving her name to either of the men as she organizes her cards.

Luther shifts in his seat. "So... how long you two been married?" he curiously asks.

"Years," (Y/N) answers vaguely.

Arthur views over (Y/N)'s cards, trying not to let her reply fluster him. He knew she was just playing into the role to not rouse any suspicion, but damn if the thought of being married to her didn't fill his stomach with butterflies like a lovesick fool.

"That's nice," Marvin comments lightly. "How do you two know that man anyway?" he asks with confusion. "Don't seem like you three would be the likeliest of friends, if you don't mind me saying."

The two men place their bets as they toss their chips into the center of the table, (Y/N) raising 50 cents, earning a raised brow from Marvin.

"Oh, well..." She clears her throat, hesitating.

"He's the uh, one who married us," Arthur jumps in, his voice confident and smooth as he nods. "We go a long way back."

Arthur's hand finds her shoulder and gives it a squeeze, playing into the role of a loving husband. (Y/N) lets out a soft, sheepish laugh, her hand reaching up to touch his own as she nods in agreement.

"Yes, exactly," she agrees, her hand lingering over his before returning to clasp her cards.

"And now you two are his chaperones?" Marvin questions with amusement.

"Something like that..." (Y/N) mumbles with a hint of indifference and annoyance.

Marvin matches (Y/N)'s bet with a toss of his chips, Luther calling the bet as well as he throws in his chips.

"Really? He married y'all? I didn't think he could be a real clergyman," Luther speaks with a hint of surprise. "He committed about five cardinal sins just in that chair you're sittin' in."

Luther lowers his cards face-down as he grabs the deck, and he sets out the table's hand. (Y/N)'s expression gives away nothing, but she adds in 60 cents.

"Well, we all go through the walk of life," she states with a shake of her head. "He's doing his own thing mindin' his own business, which is what you should be doing, mister."

"She's right," Arthur agrees as his voice lowers, his eyes fixated on both men. "Life is a challenge to all of us."

Marvin again calls her bet, Luther doing the same as they toss their chips in.

"Imagining him at the pulpit..." Marvin lets out a snicker. "'On the fourth day, he turned water into whiskey... and I don't remember much after that'," he mocks, purposefully slurring his voice as if he were drunk.

Luther laughs heartily at this, (Y/N) and Arthur both glaring at the men as Luther flips another card on the table.

"Don't think it's fair of y'all to be laughin' at him. Way I see it, you ain't much better than him," (Y/N) coldly states, scoffing scornfully at the two.

"He's a decent feller going through a bad time." Arthur leans a bit closer, his chest pressing lightly to the chair as he glares at the men. "Disrespect him again, and you'll find yourselves in a bad time, too."

Marvin and Luther's amusement instantly fades away, both squirming uncomfortably under their shared, intense glares on them.

"Alright, alright," Marvin grumbles. "Just trying to have a little fun here. It is a game after all."

"Hmm," (Y/N) hums with indifference.

(Y/N) goes all in with her remaining chips and feels Arthur squeeze her shoulder, a small, nonchalant smile on her face as she leans back in her seat.

"You're a bold one, little miss," Marvin comments, his eyes narrowing.

Marvin decides to go all in as well as he pushes his chips into the center of the table, (Y/N) simply shrugging as Luther studies her with a thoughtful hum.

"Hell, why not," the man mumbles, shrugging.

Luther goes all in as well, both very obviously doubting her. This earns a snort from Arthur as the two men lower their cards, (Y/N) snickering. She lowers her own hand, grinning ear to ear as Martin and Luther's faces both fall with dread. Groans of irritation and disappointment leave them at her winning hand, (Y/N) letting out a laugh.

"Bold, or smart?" she taunts lightly, her arms folding over her chest as she grins.

Arthur smirks widely as he squeezes her shoulders with both hands.

"That's my girl!" Arthur proudly declares, his thumbs gently rubbing along her shoulders for a brief moment.

(Y/N)'s heart stutters at this, the woman laughing with delight at his excitement. She leans her head back to glance up at him with a meaningful look of gratitude and affection, the woman clearing her throat as she begins to gather the winnings of five dollars.

"Well, it has been a pleasure, gentlemen, but it's time we moved along," she tells the two with a tinge of smugness to her words, tucking the money away.

"Aw, hell! Well played, miss," Luther grumbles with displeasure and begrudging admiration. "You're one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?" he tells Arthur, leaning back in his seat like a petulant child.

Arthur huffs softly. "Don't I know it."

(Y/N) feels a bit flustered and laughs at this as Arthur leans down, playfully pressing a kiss to her cheek and catching her off guard. His lips are warm against her cheek, his stubble gently brushing along her soft skin in a way that makes her head dizzy. She hardly has time to process it before he's pulling away, her eyes wide and following him as her skin tingles lightly.

"Come on, you..." Arthur starts, approaching where Orville had been passed out. "Let's move along—"

Arthur suddenly pauses, making (Y/N) tilt her head. The man's head whips around, his eyes widening.

"Where is he?" she questions as she rises, frowning as her eyes flick around the space.

"I—" Arthur clears his throat, startled. "I don't know."

"Where's who?" Luther questions as his voice slurs, his drink starting to take effect.

"Reverend! The man who was here!" (Y/N) exclaims with exasperation.

"Oh. I dunno," Luther brushes off with a shrug.

Arthur groans loudly. "Aw, shit!"

(Y/N)'s eyes snap around the space, the woman groaning as well. "You weren't watchin' him?!" she demands.

"I was watchin' you!" Arthur replies as he motions to her swiftly, pacing along the room as he looks in every spot Orville could potentially be in.

(Y/N) runs her hands through her hair. "Why were you watching me? I was fine! You should'a been watching the drunk fool!" she exclaims, turning as she briskly rushes out of the building.

Arthur lets out a huff at this, his expression fond with a hint of irritation as he follows.

"Excuse us, gentlemen," he tells the two men.

"Reverend!" (Y/N) shouts as she looks around the area, the man not in sight.

Arthur's eyes flick around as he stands beside her, sighing harshly. "Damn it..."

(Y/N) notices two men near, the men wearing suits with luggage at their feet— no doubt waiting for their train. She approaches them as Arthur follows, the two men noticing them.

"Excuse me, have either of you two seen a priest come through here?" (Y/N) questions with a sheepish smile. "Was probably drunk, stumblin' like a fool?" she adds, knowing how odd it must sound.

One of the men snort. "Sure, miss. We saw him, smelt him... and avoided him," one replies with amusement, making his friend wheeze. "He went that way, I think."

He motions towards the grassy terrain a bit off the trail, making her nod.

"Appreciate it," she replies, her and Arthur nodding to one another as they make their way to their horses.

"Guy looked kinda crazy," the man's friend calls in warning.

"Oh, you have no idea," Arthur lowly mutters under his breath.

The two mount their horses and ride off the direction that he had given them, the two occasionally calling out to Orville as their horses gallop along the grass.

"I can't believe you let him slip by you," (Y/N) comments after a moment, huffing softly.

Arthur's head whips to her, his eye twitching. "Hey now, this ain't my fault! You didn't have to play with the men," he accuses in return, though his tone holds no real bite.

"Hey, an extra five dollars is an extra five dollars! I thought it'd be fine since you'd be watching him! But apparently you weren't!" she accuses back, her tone also holding no bite.

"I thought the drunk fool would've stayed down! I'm sure he ain't gotten far!" Arthur defends with exasperation, waving a dismissive hand.

(Y/N) snorts as she rolls her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching in a faint smile at their playful banter. They ride alongside one another while continuing to call out to Orville, and soon enough, they find him. Orville was currently grappling with a stranger— a farmhand, it looked like, as the farmer was nearby with a herd of sheep.

"Hey!" Arthur smoothly dismounts Lance, rushing to the two. "Get your hands off him!"

The stranger grips Orivlle's shirt, Arthur moving in as the stranger faces him with a glare.

"You stay out of it!" the stranger warns.

"Get your hands off him now, you son of a bitch," Arthur growls in warning.

The stranger scoffs at this and throws Orville, who goes down as Arthur rushes in. (Y/N) hovers close by on her horse with Lance remaining at her side, the horse even casually grazing on some grass. The fight doesn't last for more than a minute as Arthur punches the man and knocks him out cold, startling the farmer nearby. Arthur shakes out his fist with a huff, shaking his head.

"Oh my God! You killed him!" the voice of the farmer cries out with terror. "I'm gonna get the law on you!"

(Y/N) groans loudly as the farmer starts to dash down the road leading to Valentine, her hand slapping her forehead. "Oh, for the love of—!"

Arthur growls under his breath and chases after the farmer on foot, (Y/N) spurring her horse into following. This prompted Lance to follow with a surprised nicker, the farmer running down an incline leading onto another road. (Y/N) rides ahead and she cuts off the man while rearing her horse back, the man halting and falling back with fear and surprise as her horse whinnies loudly.

"Settle down!" (Y/N) barks sharply at the man, huffing. "Your friend ain't dead, just unconscious!" She pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "Listen here," she starts, guiding (H/N) closer as she scowls down at him. "You tell anyone about that, you're a dead man. We don't appreciate someone spreadin' lies about us." She nods to Arthur standing behind the man. "Is that understood?"

The man pants heavily as he trembles on the ground, nodding hastily as he stumbles to his feet. "I— I understand! I won't tell a soul, I promise."

(Y/N) sighs deeply, nodding her head with encouragement. "Now go on and check on your friend so we can go find ours," she sternly tells him.

The farmer wastes no time, turning and hastily rushing past Arthur.

"Get the hell outta here," he snarls, startling the man into a spring as he takes off where he'd left his sheep and farmhand.

Lance snorts softly as he approaches Arthur, who runs a hand along his neck as he looks to (Y/N) in thanks. His face then falls, the man's eyes darting around.

"Where's Reverend?" he demands, realizing the drunk man was gone again.

"Where's—" (Y/N) starts, her brow furrowed before her face falls like his had. "Oh. Um."

She clears her throat awkwardly, Arthur's eyes glinting with delight and mischief as he smirks.

"You weren't watchin' him?" he drawls tauntingly.

(Y/N) grumbles softly, her hands tightly gripping (H/N)'s reins. "No, I was— well, watching you!"

Arthur's smirk only grows, the man lowly laughing. "Why were you watching me? I was fine," he drawls sarcastically, mocking her exact words.

(Y/N) bristles at this as her face becomes hot, the woman opening and closing her mouth a few times.

"Oh, shut up! I was helping you!" she hisses back as Arthur lets out a hearty laugh. "It's not the same! Stop laughin'!" she complains indignantly, though she can't deny that she finds his delight infectious.

Arthur rolls his eyes with amusement as his laughter eases, swiftly mounting Lance. He continues to smile ear to ear, the two urging their horses into a trot as they follow the path.

"He's barely staying awake, he has to be close," (Y/N) comments out loud with a hint of exasperation, wishing the man would've just sat still.

Her eye catches movement on the overhead train tracks, her eyes widening and her face falling as she pulls (H/N) to a stop.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Arthur!" she groans loudly, nodding forward and upward.

Arthur looks up as he pulls Lance to a stop, his face falling. Orville was stumbling onto the bridge that went across overhead, the bridge itself train tracks that lead onto the other side of the divided lands.

"Reverend! Get off the damn tracks!" Arthur bellows to the man, shaking his head.

The two urge their horses up the incline leading to the hill as a shortcut, Lance having an easier time with his longer legs  as (H/N) struggled a bit with a soft whinny. (Y/N) softly encourages her up the incline, Lance slowing a bit for her to catch up before hopping onto the ledge leading onto solid ground.

Once on the steady land, Arthur and (Y/N) spur their horses into a canter towards the tracks. They draw closer to the bridge, Orville's form in the distance nearly halfway across as he stumbles along the tracks.

"Stay here with the horses!"

Arthur smoothly dismounts Lance while the animal is still in a run, dashing down the tracks after Orville. Lance slows to a stop with a surprised whinny, caught off guard his rider had dismounted so quickly.

"Arthur!" (Y/N) calls after him with alarm, worry in her eyes.

She hesitates before she reluctantly obeys, guiding her horse away from the tracks as Lance follows after her instinctively.

-

"Come on, my friend!" Arthur shouts after Orville.

Arthur sprints down the tracks carefully as he makes sure not to slip between the gaps of the boards, shaking his head.

"It's just a simple mistake! You can..." He groans as he rolls his eyes. "Still be... s— saved," he forces out through gritted teeth.

Orville suddenly stops, leaning down suddenly as Arthur draws closer. Arthur is grateful the man did, until he notices Orville's foot twisted to the side and wedged perfectly in between the boards of the tracks.

"What have you done with your foot?!" Arthur grits out with exasperated anger, hastily rushing closer.

"It appears to like this place and wants to stay," Orville calmly speaks, weakly wiggling his leg.

Arthur's hands grab the man's leg as he gently tries to tug his foot free, the drunk man very uncooperative as he continuously nearly topples over.

"Arthur! Arthur, a train! A train's coming!"

Arthur's head snaps up at the sound of (Y/N)'s screaming words, the sound of a train whistle echoing down the tracks. His head snaps back his face paling at the sight of a train rounding around the mountain in the near distance.

"Shit!" he hisses.

He begins to roughly yank at Orville's foot, the man almost losing his balance and letting out giggles.

"Get your foot outta there! Twist your leg, you drunken bastard!" Arthur shouts with increasing panic, his eyes snapping from Orville's foot to the train as it passes onto the bridge.

The train draws closer as the tracks begin to vibrate beneath his boots, and he can faintly hear (Y/N) screaming his name, but it's muffled by the roar of the train's engine and the sound of the whistle being blown rapidly by the conductor. Thankfully, Orville seems to gain some of his senses and moves his foot ever so slightly, allowing Arthur to yank it free with a rough tug.

"Got it! Come on!"

Arthur shoves Orville forward to the railing, staggering after him. He throws himself against the railing just as the train speeds by, the wind whipping around the two men as they double over the edge of the railing. Arthur grabs Orville and yanks him back upward as the train passes, Orville panting heavily.

-

(Y/N) had been covering her eyes, her breathing heavy as she hesitantly peeks through her fingers.

She breathes out almost painfully with relief as she sees Arthur approaching with Orville, her hand clutching at the fabric of her shirt at her chest. Orville leans heavily into Arthur, his arm over his shoulders and his expression twisted.

"Orville Swanson, you damned fool!" (Y/N) scolds furiously. "I almost had a goddamn heart attack!"

"I'd save your breath," Arthur breathlessly replies, letting out a hoarse chuckle. "Way he is now, the fool can't hear you."

(Y/N) huffs at this. "Makes me feel better, and that's all that matters!" She glares at the drunk man. "God, I could throttle you, Swanson!"

Orville removes his arm from Arthur's shoulders as they step off the tracks towards her, the man trying to stroll away in a stumbling step.

"Thank you, sir!" Orville calmly dismisses.

"Ah-ah-ah, oh no you don't!" Arthur rumbles as he grabs hold of Orville.

Arthur roughly throws him to the ground, (Y/N) snorting at the sight as she scowls at the drunk man. Her horse sniffs at Orville before huffing and stepping away, bristling and shaking her head out.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Arthur snarls at the man.

Orville abruptly rises with shocking stability, his eyes wild and his hands moving around in a rapid manner.

"What the hell is wrong with you, throwing me off a bridge like that?!" Orville screams back hysterically, his once calm attitude gone.

Arthur exhales sharply, gesturing the way the train had drove off in. "There was a goddamn train you crazy bastard!"

(Y/N) nods in agreement firmly, scowling. "Damn near killed yourself and Arthur!" she barks at the man.

Orville pants heavily, looking dazed and panicked as he processes their words. He blinks slowly, his features becoming distressed.

"Have I been bad again, Mr. Morgan? Miss (L/N)?" he shakily asks, his lower lip pouting slightly. "I— I'm sorry!"

(Y/N) sighs sharply as he begins to wail, her and Arthur exchanging an exasperated look.

"I wish I was different!" Orville wails with raw emotion, shaking his head as his hands cover his face.

This makes Arthur's features soften ever so slightly, (Y/N)'s own scowl starting to ease. Arthur sighs and approaches Orville, awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.

"Let's get you home," Arthur quietly speaks, his voice still rough but not as angered or intense.

"Home..." Orville repeats softly, his crying abruptly stopping as he nods shakily. "Yeah, that's... a wonderful idea. I could have tea with Margaret." He smiles dopily.

(Y/N)'s brow raises. "Maragret? Who's that?"

"My..."

Orville suddenly passes out, flopping to the floor like a ragdoll. Arthur sighs heavily with exasperation as he lowers, easily hoisting the man up and approaching Lance. He unceremoniously dumps him on the back of his horse, Orville remaining limp.

(Y/N) sighs at the sight, shaking her head as her attention shifts to Arthur.

"Are you okay, Arthur?" she questions, her voice soft and full of concern.

"I'm fine," Arthur grumbles, glaring at the passed out Orville for a moment. "Crazy son of a bitch." His eyes flick to her as his features soften. "And you?"

She nods her head, swallowing thickly. "Fine. At least now I am." She exhales deeply, one of her hands gently gripping at the chest of her shirt. "My chest hurts. I think I almost had a genuine heart attack." She weakly laughs, her hand lowering to the reins.

Arthur's eyes notices her hands trembling as she grips the reins, a sense of protectiveness filling his chest. The man steps a small step closer, wanting to comfort her, but before he could, the woman is guiding (H/N) onto the trail, seeming to not have noticed.

(Y/N) runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head. "Think we should ride slow so he don't fall off?" she asks as she glances back to Orville on his horse.

Arthur snorts and lifts a dismissive hand. "He'll be fine for the short trip."

He mounts Lance smoothly before spurring him into a canter, (Y/N) softly chuckling as she follows closely on (H/N).

-

The two arrive at camp within just a few minutes at their speed, Arthur walking through camp briskly with a sour expression and Orville slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. (Y/N) follows after the man, but as she notices Abigail sitting with Sadie, she hesitates.

She glances to Arthur before she breaks off from the man, approaching where the two women were sitting near the outskirts of their camp.

"— I wish... I wish they would have killed me, too," Sadie shakily speaks.

(Y/N) hesitates as she overhears this, slowing her approach as she lingers near Simon's setup.

"I know," Abigail gently replies.

"I wish it every goddamned day," Sadie grits out, pain in her voice.

Abigail sighs softly, nodding as she rests her hand on Sadie's. "I know."

Sadie lets out soft sniffles as she wipes at her eyes, her cheeks flushed and stained with her tears. "You know, if... I had any courage... if I wasn't so damn weak..." Her words are thick with emotion. "I'd kill myself, too."

Abigail shakes her head, her eyes narrowing and her hand squeezing Sadie's. "We both know that ain't true. We both know that bravery is in the living," she gently encourages. "I— I don't know you very well, but I can tell you're brave, Mrs. Adler. I really can."

Sadie scoffs at this, shaking her head. "I don't seem very brave."

Abigail's features soften as she looks at Sadie's side profile. "Nonsense... you're one of the bravest women I ever met, alongside (Y/N)."

(Y/N) perks up at this as a small smile crosses her face, Sadie's eyes lifting at the mention of (Y/N)'s name.

"And that tells me you got the courage. The courage to live," Abigail continues.

(Y/N) exhales softly, resuming her approach. "She's right," she agrees, her voice softened as she comfortably folds her arms over her chest, gazing down at Sadie. "I see it in you, Mrs. Adler. There's a fire inside you that can't be put out by anything. You've just gotta... bring it back out. And I know you can."

Sadie's gaze lifts to (Y/N), heavy bags noticeable under her eyes. Her skin is a bit pale, her eyes red and a bit puffy from crying.

"I hope so... I really do," Sadie chokes out, looking away.

"Hey," (Y/N) gently urges, causing Sadie to lift her eyes back to her. "Believe in me until you can yourself."

Sadie frowns as she considers this with a soft sniffle, Abigail gently nudging her arm into hers.

"(Y/N) ain't no liar," Abigail mentions with a grin. "If she says you can do it, you can. And I know you can, too."

Sadie's expression softens as her eyes flick between the two women, obviously touched by their words of encouragement.

"I just... I just miss him so much..." she whimpers softly, wiping at her cheeks with her free hand.

"And that's completely understandable," (Y/N) soothingly replies, nodding.

Sadie hiccups softly, her breathing shaky as she looks up at (Y/N). "What am I gonna do?"

(Y/N) and Abigail exchange a glance, Abigail taking a deep breath as she faces Sadie once more.

"You're gonna suffer. And life's gonna go on," Abigail bluntly murmurs, shaking her head. "That's the truth of it, I won't lie to you."

Sadie's eyes well up at the brutal honesty.

"Oh, no..." Sadie squeaks out with emotion, a soft sob leaving her.

"She's right. It's an unfair thing, but... that's the way it is," (Y/N) agrees with a quiet sigh, nodding her head as she shifts her weight on her feet.

"Where— Where am I gonna go?" Sadie cries softly.

"You'll stay with us, of course," (Y/N) answers without missing a beat.

Abigail nods in eager agreement to this, Sadie seeming a bit surprised by the ready offer.

(Y/N) offers Sadie a small smile. "Most folks here ain't so bad. I won't lie, there are... some who I don't frankly like or trust, but... for the most part, everyone here is decent."

Sadie's distressed look slowly fades into a scowl, (Y/N) knowing full well she was no doubt thinking of Micah. Wordlessly, (Y/N) nods in agreement, Sadie sniffling and nodding back as she exhales shakily.

"It's nasty out there on your own," Abigail points out with worry.

"I know..." Sadie softly whispers.

"You'll be safe here," Abigail continues gently. "At least for now. Until you're back on your feet properly."

(Y/N) nods in agreement as she exhales deeply. "Stay here as long as you want, Mrs. Adler. And if you ever want to leave, you just let me know. Arthur and I will help you."

Sadie's lower lip trembles faintly as she breathes shakily, her eyes flicking between Abigail and (Y/N). She seemed a bit overwhelmed by their support, but also appreciated it, a quiet whimper leaving her as a few tears fall from her eyes.

"Thank you..." Sadie rasps out, her throat tight with emotion. "Thank you both."

"Of course," Abigail happily replies, her hand moving and rubbing the woman's back soothingly.

"Thanks for lookin' out for her, Abigail." (Y/N) nods to Abigail, her attention returning to Sadie. She hesitates before slowly crouching down to be even leveled, her lips tugged in a small, warm smile. "I know I'm not around much, but... when I am, if you want to talk, I'm always willing to listen," she offers kindly. "The girls are, too. They're a sweet bunch, and I think you'd get along with them. Whenever you're ready."

Sadie watches her for a few moments as she takes in her words, slowly and shakily nodding. She softly cries as she wipes at her tears, (Y/N) softly grunting as she rises once more. Her eyes flick over to Simon's area, noticing that the stew he'd prepared for the morning was still heated over a small fire.

"Are you hungry?" (Y/N) questions Sadie in a fussing manner.

Sadie doesn't answer verbally, instead shaking her head once as she looks down at her lap, no doubt mentally and physically drained.

"I've got her, (Y/N)," Abigail reassures with a wave of her hand. "You go on and eat. I'm sure you're starvin'."

"Alright," (Y/N) quietly agrees.

She looks over Sadie's hunched and sobbing form with sympathy, the woman sighing softly as she turns and approaches the stew. She nods to Simon currently cleaning a rabbit corpse in greeting as she grabs a tin, spooning some of the beef stew into the bowl.

She strolls away a few paces before coming to a stop, slowly eating a few bites as she takes in the camp. Her mind starts to wander as to what else she and Arthur will get up to, part of her already exhausted despite the fact it was probably barely reaching noon.

"Miss... please," a weak voice rasps.

(Y/N) jumps slightly, nearly choking on the spoonful of stew she'd just eaten. Her eyes snap around before she turns her form, her eyes landing on Kieran a few feet away from her. She hadn't even realized she'd wandered this way.

Kieran watches her with a broken expression, his eyes desperate and his legs trembling beneath him faintly from being forced to stand for so long. His breathing was a bit shallow, and he was noticeably thinner, his hair greasy from not having washed and his features absolutely exhausted.

"Please," Kieran repeats in a helpless wheeze.

(Y/N) watches him with tentative apprehension as her brow lightly furrows, the woman swallowing down the spoonful of stew.

Chapter Text

Arthur sighs deeply and grumbles to himself as he stomps over to Orville’s sleeping roll near the unlit firepit, Orville still slung over his shoulder like a ragdoll. Arthur stops in front of the sleeping roll, unceremoniously dumping the drunken and unconscious man onto the furs, Orville letting out a groan of protest at this. Orville grimaces at the still somewhat early morning sunlight, and flops onto his belly to hide from it with a groggy noise.

“You better sleep your way off to salvation, my friend,” Arthur dryly states, watching as Orville writhes for a moment before settling once more.

Susan, having noticed the return of Arthur and (Y/N), approaches in quick strides, her eyes locking on Orville’s form as her expression sours and wrinkles with disapproval.

“Oh! What happened?!” Susan asks with exasperation, huffing.

Arthur waves a dismissive hand in Orville’s direction, exhaling deeply. “Just… the usual.”

Susan softly clicks her tongue at this, her arms folding over her chest as she stares at Orville with narrowed eyes. “Poor bastard.”

“Exactly,” Arthur chuckles out quietly.

Susan shakes her head, turning to Arthur with a somewhat softened smile. “Well, thank you, Mr. Morgan. And Miss (L/N) too, I’m guessing,” she thanks with appreciation.

Arthur nods at this, his hands resting on his belt buckle. “You’d be right.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Susan reassures Arthur as she looks down at Orville with another sigh, Orville snoring loudly and muttering in his unconscious state.

“He was lucky this time,” Arthur speaks lowly while pointing to Orville firmly, his voice full of warning as he recalls what had happened on the bridge. “Real lucky.”

With that, Arthur turns and stomps away with a grumble under his breath, his hand lifting and adjusting his hat atop his head. His eyes scan around camp for a brief moment before halts in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sight of (Y/N) with the O’Driscoll. He blinks slowly at the sight, the O’Driscoll speaking to (Y/N) with a pleading look on his face as she stands still with her bowl of stew, her expression guarded.

Arthur’s jaw ticks, his protectiveness flaring as he stomps over with swift strides, his presence gaining the attention of Dutch, who had been sitting outside of his tent reading his book, as usual.

“Hey!” Arthur barks sternly, causing Kieran to nearly jump out of his skin.

(Y/N)’s head turns to Arthur quickly, the woman setting her barely-touched stew aside on a crate as the man stomps over.

“Boy, I warned you weeks back about even lookin’ at her!” Arthur grits out, his voice low and dangerous as he comes to a stop beside (Y/N), his posture and body language tense as a wolf ready to pounce.

(Y/N) quickly lifts her hand in a soothing manner. “Arthur, wait, he was just—”

“Woah! Hold your horses there,” Dutch calls boisterously, gaining their attention.

(Y/N) and Arthur look back, spotting Dutch approaching with Bill trailing after him, Kieran’s sunburnt face palling at the sight of Dutch as his head ducks down, his eyes wide and averting away.

“It seems the uh, cat has got our friend here’s tongue,” Dutch starts as he slows to a stop with Bill, his eyes narrowed with a mixture of disgust and indifference as he regards Kieran and a faint smirk on his face. “I was thinking Mr. Williamson,” he continued, clapping his hand on Bill’s shoulder, “could have a word.”

“You ready to talk, boy?” Bill demands lowly, invading Kieran’s space with Dutch.

Kieran winces as he looks up with a frightened look, his brows pinched together and his legs trembling lightly beneath him.

“I told you, mister— I told all of you!” he manages out, his voice broken and wobbling. It was obvious he was holding back tears. “I don’t know nothin’, okay?! They— They ain’t no friends of mine!” He exhales shakily. “I just been ridden with them for a while—”

“Horseshit!” Bill cuts him off, glaring at Kieran suspiciously. “You see, we heard that part, so how about you tell the truth.” He scoffs, turning to Dutch. “Dutch, what you want me to do?”

“Hurt him!” Dutch encourages without hesitation, scowling lightly. “So the next time he opens his mouth, it is to tell us what is going on!” Dutch lets out a dramatic sound, giving Kieran a sidelong glance of disapproval. “Ah, who am I kidding?” he feigns disappointment.

Dutch leans in closer, Kieran letting out a faint, fearful whimper and turning his head away instinctively.

“One of O’Driscoll’s boys couldn’t open his mouth… but he’d tell a lie,” Dutch muses, observing the cowering Kieran closely. “Screw it. Let’s just have some fun.”

Dutch smirks wickedly, turning to Bill.

“Geld him,” he orders, lifting his fingers in a scissor-snipping motion.

Bill’s face lights up like a child’s on Christmas, the man practically bouncing on his feet. “Oh, yeah!” he laughs heartily, turning and running off.

(Y/N)’s eyes widen and flick from Dutch to the fleeing Bill and to Kieran, a frown on her face as she looks to Arthur. Dutch lets out a gleeful chuckle, Kieran’s eyes wide and frightened as he stares in the direction Bill left.

“Wh— What’s he doin’? Where’s he goin’?!” Kieran frantically questions.

“Oh! Don’t worry,” Dutch dismisses, stepping closer to Kieran.

Arthur’s expression is hardened as he shifts back a few steps from Kieran, his hand gently grasping the crook of (Y/N)’s elbow and tugging her back to do the same. (Y/N) looks to Arthur as she obliges wordlessly and steps back to his side, her eyes averting away and her lips pressing into a grimace with the realization of what they were planning as Dutch tugs Kieran’s pants and undergarments down to his ankles, exposing him.

“They’re only balls, boy!” Dutch cheerfully assures, rising. “Just gonna cause you trouble!”

Kieran lets out sounds of protest and alarm, his legs trembling and his eyes wide with terror. Arthur can’t help but let out a stifled snort at the sight as he shakes his head, (Y/N) still grimacing with her head turned away.

At the campfire, Bill joyously lifts a pair of gelding tongs he’d been heating up on the fire he lit at the firepit, snipping them together as the metal sparks. The metal on the end was a bright orange, showing just how hot the metal had become.

Dutch laughs heartily at Kieran’s fear, exhaling with amusement. “You know, in Imperial Rome… eunuchs was among the happiest, and most loyal of courtiers!”

Kierna’s face pales as he spots Bill approaching with the metal tongs, his form trembling as he starts to struggle against his binds.

“No, no no no no!” Kieran cries out in protest frantically. “Y— You’re kiddin’ me, right?!”

Dutch grins. “Of course!” he smoothly lies.

“Oh, I— I don’t think this is—” (Y/N) starts apprehensively, grimacing as Bill lowers the tongs and snips them dangerously close near Kieran’s privates.

Kieran lets out a terrified shriek, his form jolting as he feels the intense heat radiating off the metal. “You sick bastards!”

Arthur’s arm gently nudges (Y/N)’s in a reassuring manner as he chuckles faintly, (Y/N) sighing deeply and frowning with mild disapproval. She felt oddly conflicted. Kieran was an O’Driscoll, so she shouldn’t feel bad.

Right?

Kieran continues to holler and scream as Bill cackles maniacally, continuing to snip the gelding tongs threateningly close to his balls.

“What do you want from me?!” Kieran yells helplessly, tears falling from his eyes and his voice wavering.

“Well, you are gonna talk…” Dutch starts matter-of-factly, his hand lifting nonchalantly. “The only question is now, or after we got these little fellers off?”

Bill grins widely as he snips the tongs once more for emphasis, the metal nearly grazing Kieran’s penis in the process. Kieran jerks back with a fearful yelp, his body pressing as far back into the tree as he possibly could in his position.

“Okay! Okay, listen!” Kieran frantically starts, panting raggedly and swallowing thickly as he harshly blinks back his tears. “I know where O’Driscoll’s holed up,” he manages out through panting breaths, shaking his head. “And you’re right. He don’t like you any more than you like him.” He tenses up, the heat radiating off the metal tongs making him wince in pain. “He’s at Six Point Cabin!”

Bill lets out a groan of disappointment, reluctantly stepping back with the metal tongs angled downward as he pouts.

“I’ll take you there,” Kieran finishes, nodding his head shakily and breathing heavily. “Serious! I don’t like him! I mean—” He huffs a weak puff of airy laughter, “— I like him even less than I like you. No offense.”

Dutch lets out a chuckle, lifting his hand for Bill to lower the tongs further. “Oh, none taken.”

Bill grumbles with irritation as he steps away further, looking down at the metal tongs with obvious disappointment that Kieran had ended up talking after all.

“We could go out with him,” (Y/N) suggests as she nods her head to Dutch, clearing her throat softly. “I think I remember seeing it on the map Hosea gave me. It ain’t that far. It’s out past Valentine.”

Arthur looks to (Y/N) with a nod of approval, stepping forward and drawing his hunting knife as he cuts Kieran’s bindings. “We got this, Dutch.” He lets out a humorless snort. “Should be fun.”

Kieran hastily yanks his pants and undergarments up around his waist once freed, seeming both embarrassed and relieved as he exhales shakily, still catching his breath as he quickly wipes at his eyes.

“Alright, you. Come on. Let’s go,” Arthur sternly orders, his hand clamping down onto Kieran’s shoulder and forcing him forward towards the horses with (Y/N) in tow.

Dutch and Bill start to snicker as the three walk away, obviously still finding humor in how they tormented Kieran so.

“Geld him!” Dutch wheezes out, mimicking what he’d ordered earlier.

Bill lets out a raspy laugh at this, the two continuing to cackle as the three head off towards the horses. (Y/N) keeps her eyes on Kieran warily as she walks alongside Arthur, Arthur’s hand roughly gripping Kieran's shoulder as they walk.

“Let’s all hope you ain’t trying to trick us, O’Driscoll,” Arthur lowly grumbles, reluctantly releasing the man’s shoulder.

Kieran lets out a quiet, frustrated sound. “I ain’t no O’Driscoll!” he practically whines, rubbing the shoulder Arthur had been holding with a wince.

“Can’t deny that you were one, though. Saw you clear as day at that camp,” (Y/N) chimes in, giving the man a glance over as she scoffs quietly.

“We’ve still got his horse we took after catching him up in the mountains. He could ride it while we follow, maybe,” (Y/N) suggests to Arthur with a small shrug.

Arthur grunts softly under his breath as he ponders this for a moment, ultimately deciding against it as he shakes his head. “Too risky. Don’t feel like chasin’ after him if he tries to run off. Not in the mood for that shit,” he replies with a heavy sigh, his eyes scanning around and landing on a familiar figure.

“John!” Arthur calls to the man sitting at a table nearby, gaining his attention. He then glances over his shoulder, Bill lingering near the tree and the tongs set aside in a bucket of water. “Bill! C’mere.”

Bill straightens up, looking over as Dutch pats his shoulder before sauntering off back towards his tent. John rises from the table as he leaves his finished coffee and stew behind, Bill striding over as well.

“We got a social call needs makin’,” Arthur finishes, nodding to the two men as they walk over. His eyes flick to Kieran and narrow. “Where we headed?”

“Ah…” Kieran softly stammers, his eyes shifting to Bill apprehensively as they approach the horses. “U—Up into the hills behind Valentine. I— well, I’ll show you.”

(Y/N) approaches (H/N), who lets out a gentle whicker of affection at the sight of (Y/N). (Y/N) smiles softly as she strokes the horse's neck, untying her reins from the hitching post before grasping the saddle and smoothly mounting up.

“Want me to take him?” she questions Arthur.

“Nope,” he answers without missing a beat as his tone hardens with a protective edge, shaking his head firmly before glancing to where John stood. “John, you take this little rattlesnake with you. Any nonsense, kill him.”

John, who stood beside his horse, looks over with a somewhat irritated glance, frowning that he had to be the one to take the O’Driscoll. His horse was called ‘Old Boy’, and was a Hungarian Half-bred warhorse with a silver dark bay coat. His mane was a platinum blond and messy, bangs draped along the horse’s white striped snout.

The man sighs heavily and nods, mounting up. “Sure…” he agrees reluctantly, giving Kieran a side-eye as the man approaches him and his horse.

Bill mounts up on Brown Jack, the horse shifting under his weight with a soft nicker. Arthur approaches Lance, stroking his hand along Lance’s mane for a brief moment before mounting up himself, settling with a deep sigh as he looks to Kieran.

“We’re gonna pay your buddies our respects,” he taunts the man with a faint smirk, turning Lance as the animal snorts softly.

Kieran frowns and averts his eyes downward, avoiding Arthur’s gaze as he tentatively steps closer to John’s horse.

“He takin’ us to Colm?” John questions, not bothering to help Kieran at all as the man tries to mount up from behind.

“Says he is,” (Y/N) answers as she guides (H/N) away from the hitching post. “But it seems a little strange, Colm risking being that close to Valentine.”

Kieran manages to pull himself onto Old Boy, awkwardly grasping John’s sides for stability as John scowls and glares ahead.

“He— He figured he’d be fine there. No one goes out to the hills, and if they do manage to find the cabin, they kill ‘em,” Kieran hesitantly answers (Y/N), clearing his throat nervously as Arthur gives him a sharp glare. “I— I’m takin’ you to him. He should be there. Look, I— I’ll give you more directions when we’re close. But— But if I know where we are, it’s up past Valentine, l—like she said.”

John guides Old Boy ahead of the others, nodding. “Alright. I’ll lead.”

Arthur and (Y/N) guide their horses to follow alongside one another behind John, Bill remaining in the back of the small group as they start to head out. The five make their way out of camp through the thick brush and the barely visible path, making their way out onto the main road, the sound of the horse’s hooves clopping against the ground filling the air.

“Sharing a saddle with an O’Driscoll… who’d have thought?” John muses out loud as they make their way along the path, their horses moving in a quick-paced trot.

Kieran exhales a sharp breath of frustration. “How many times I gotta say? I ain’t an O’Driscoll,” he insists with exasperation.

John scoffs. “You sure look like one. And… you smell like…” He pauses, wincing as his nose wrinkles. “Goddamn! You smell like one, too!” he exclaims with disgust.

Kieran sighs, frowning. “I smell like horse shit,” he bluntly replies.

“That’s right!” John laughs. “Boy, are you high!”

Kieran lets out another sigh as his face falls further, the man appearing exhausted and disheartened as they continue to ride. (Y/N) snorts quietly at the banter and lightly rolls her eyes, her and Arthur exchanging a brief, amused glance with one another.

“Morgan, (L/N)!” Bill suddenly barks, causing the two to look back in sync before facing ahead once more. “You both got throwin’ knives in your saddle bags.”

“Huh?” (Y/N) questions with surprise, instinctively reaching for her saddlebag to peer inside, trusting (H/N) to keep straight on the path. “Oh. Why?”

Bill sighs softly as he frowns. “Dutch said you might—” He hesitates, seeming to struggle to find the words to say as he grunts. “I was asked to give them.” He nods to himself, clearing his throat and straightening up. “And I’m doing you both the further courtesy of telling you about it.”

(Y/N)’s eye twitches faintly at this as she frowns deeply, slowly closing her saddlebag. “So… you decided to just… slip them inside our bags at some point. God knows when. And… you’re considerin’ it a… ‘courtesy’… to have actually told us about them, so we know they’re actually there for us to use,” she slowly speaks.

Bill blinks slowly, Arthur letting out a deep, irritated sigh. He doesn’t speak for a moment, as if trying to rein in his temper, the man’s jaw clenched lightly.

“Next time you wanna give us somethin’, how about you give it to us?” Arthur grits out, shaking his head to himself and looking to the sky with a deep breath.”’Stead of hidin’ it somewhere, hopin’ the opportunity comes up to mention it.”

Bill bristles at Arthur’s annoyed tone, the man seeming a bit flustered as he huffs and glares to the side with a small frown. “Last goddamn favor I do either of ya!”

(Y/N) sighs heavily as she looks ahead with a blank stare, the late morning heat feeling warm against her skin as the sun shines brightly above the group traveling along the dirt road. They ride in a silence, Kieran glancing around occasionally before eventually perking up.

“Hey,” Kieran tentatively speaks up, his voice quiet. He clears his throat, trying again a bit louder, “Hey. I—I—If I got my bearings, it’s over here.”

John listens and steers Old Boy to the left path at the fork, the others following suit as they all spur their horses into a casual-paced canter. They ride alongside the train track, (Y/N) giving it a side-eye as she recalls the events that had happened that morning with Orville. She sighs deeply, feeling the strong urge for her and Arthur to leave the stress of camp for another day or so despite having returned that morning with Hosea. But that would be selfish. Wouldn’t it?

“Yeah… I know this country,” Kieran speaks up with a bit more confidence, bringing (Y/N) from her thoughts as she glances over to the man riding on Old Boy behind John. “Take this track up through the rocks.”

John nods at this, guiding Old Boy along the path that is parallel to the train tracks. The path leads to a steadily rising incline, a handful of boulders lining the path ahead.

(Y/N) looks away from the tracks to John riding ahead, clearing her throat softly. “John, how’re you feeling today?” she questions, her voice a bit raised for the man to hear her properly.

“Fine,” John replies with a weary sigh. “Still ain’t right. But I’m fine,” he assures.

(Y/N) nods at this with a small, relieved smile, her eyes flicking to Arthur as he lets out a bitter scoff.

“You damn well should be after all that bed rest,” Arthur states in a monotone.

(Y/N) softly clicks her tongue. “Arthur—”

“Hey, alright,” John mildly protested, but his tone was surprisingly calm, the man not rising to the bait. “Abigail wouldn’t let me up. You know her, she won’t be reasoned with.”

(Y/N) nods in agreement, letting out a faint laugh. “He ain’t lying. That woman was like a herding dog with him. But it came from a place of love and worry,” she defends in a light tone.

John huffs softly at this as his expression wrinkles, the man seeming uncomfortable at the mention of Abigail’s ‘love’ for him and uncertain.

“Well, when he was havin’ a failure of reason, and hidin’ behind his woman, we were gettin’ shot at,” Arthur accuses bitterly as he glares at John’s back, frowning with disapproval.

John bristles at this, not taking his eyes off the path ahead of them. “Oh, please. We both know if you were hurt, (Y/N) would be the same as Abigail fussin’ over you not letting you up and about!”

(Y/N) huffs indignantly, opening her mouth to protest. But she closes it after a moment, knowing full well she would be just like Abigail if Arthur had been mauled in the way John had been, fussing and hovering around him and constantly checking on the man.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, her cheeks warming as she looks to the side with embarrassment.

Arthur seems a bit flustered as well, the man gruffly clearing his throat. “Whatever,” he grumbles as well.

John shakes his head with a humorless snort, frowning and hesitating. “You know— I’d do the same for you… if you was in a bad way. Take on all the work while you rested,” he earnestly says after a brief moment.

Arthur’s eyes shift ahead to John as his features soften momentarily with a flicker of surprise, though he quickly masks it as his jaw clenches. He takes in the words for a moment as (Y/N) watches him from the corner of her eye, Arthur letting out a deep breath and shaking his head.

“I hope so. But I fear you don’t know how to help anyone, excepting yourself,” Arthur replies with bitterness and lingering anger, scoffing scornfully.

(Y/N) sighs with mild disappointment at Arthur’s bitter response, but she can’t really blame the man for holding such a stubborn grudge against John. It had hurt, when John just decided to abandon the gang without warning. Abigail had been heartbroken and devastated, and Arthur was quiet for a while. He busied himself with so much work that (Y/N) had to force the man to relax, tricking him with bounties that didn’t exist and with hunting trips, or claiming she’d seen a rare breed of horse, only for them to look for days for it to not be there.

She’d been upset and worried greatly for the younger man she saw as a little brother, but she had to be strong for Arthur when he couldn’t be. And she’d do it again for the man if it came to that. However, John had promised her when he came back he wouldn’t run off again, so she could only hope he kept his word.

John sighs heavily as he shakes his head, his shoulders slumping partially at Arthur’s biting response. “You see, O’Driscoll? If this is how he treats his friends, imagine what he does to his enemies.”

Kieran’s eyes flick from Arthur to John, the man letting out a sheepish, weak and half-hearted laugh. “I got an inklin’ of what you all do to your enemies when you put those gelding tongs to my parts.”

Bill lets out a cackle at this, grinning as he nods proudly to himself. (Y/N) quietly snorts and shakes her head with mild amusement, Arthur smirking faintly and glancing back at Bill over his shoulder.

“Bill, you still got them tongs?” he questions out loud, Kieran’s head whipping back to Arthur.

“I got a knife,” Bill casually replies, shrugging. “Won’t be so clean, but it’ll get the job done.”

Kieran’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, Arthur turning to look at Kieran with a smirk.

“Keep that in your mind, young feller. Right at the forefront of it,” Arthur warns lightly.

Kieran gulps, stammering softly and hastily. “I—I swear, I promise, I’m takin’ you to Colm as best as I can. You’ll see. I— I’ll make good,” he assures.

(Y/N) lets out a sigh, shaking her head as she observes Kieran. “Let’s hope so. Because Arthur doesn’t bluff,” she comments lightly and truthfully, knowing full well Arthur wasn’t one for empty threats or promises.

Kieran lets out a frightened wheeze of a nervous laugh, his eyes shifting ahead and his face pale. He looks along the path, clearing his throat as he weakly points ahead.

“U— Uh, now we… head up left and along the— the path,” Kieran manages out, his voice airy as he lowers his hand once more.

John snickers at the fear in Kieran’s voice, the group guiding their horses along the left-hand path that continues to travel alongside the railroad tracks. There’s a brief silence that settles over the group, the sun crawling slowly up the sky and the weather becoming a bit warmer, yet still comfortable, the sky above a brilliant blue with a handful of clouds scattered among it.

“Those are the hills!” Kieran suddenly points out, motioning ahead. “Head for ‘em.”

He nods ahead, a dirt path branching off and winding up the incline of the grassy hills.

“Save your horses!” John urges the group, slowing Old Boy just a tad to conserve the animal’s energy. “We got a climb, fellas.”

The group continue to guide their horses along the path closer to the hills, Kieran taking a moment to observe the group with tentative, quick glances.

“You know… you all ain’t that different from the O’Driscoll’s.”

This comment from Kieran causes all four of them to whip their heads to the man, John nearly swerving Old Boy off the road in the process before hastily looking forward and correcting himself as his horse whinnies softly in protest. He guides his horse back onto the path that winds up the hill, the others following on their own horses.

“What did you just say?” John demands, his voice hardened and raised in anger.

Kieran blinks with wide eyes, his gaze averting down. “I— I been watchin’ you all these weeks, and, uhh…”

“Ooh, boy… you must be delirious from starvation and dehydration if you’re thinkin’ that,” (Y/N) states in a sharp tone, letting out a humorless laugh as she and Arthur exchange a baffled, angered glance to one another.

“Yeah!” John agrees vehemently. “You been tied to a tree! You don’t know nothin’ about this gang.”

Kieran huffs softly. “Y— Yeah, well, I’d… I’d say you don’t know much about the O’Driscolls,” he defends in a manner of fact tone. “But maybe I know more about you than you know about them. And I know all about them, so…”

“Boy, we’ve been fighting with them for years. A hell of a lot longer than you’ve been riding with them. We know exactly who and what they are,” (Y/N) firmly replies, shaking her head as anger starts to bubble within her. “Bill, get that knife ready,” she calls back to the man in a monotone, all traces of her previous sympathy for Kieran having saltily evaporated at the accusation.

“With pleasure,” Bill calls back in a low voice as he glares at Kieran’s back, his hand moving to his knife strapped to his thigh.

Kieran tenses up at this and gulps, Arthur letting out a quiet chortle as he shakes his head. John lets out a quiet laugh as well, but Bill looked entirely serious and ready to pounce on Kieran if given the opportunity, even if (Y/N) was only half-kidding to mess with Kieran.

John glances over his shoulder briefly to Kieran. “Tell us then, how are we like those mongrel dogs?” he icily demands.

Kieran hesitates as he faces ahead once more, his head tilting slightly. “You… You’re outlawed like them… you’re out to survive like them… you live rough, you live hard… fighting the law… nature,” he lists off. “You’re out for yourselves.”

“Ooh, wrong!” (Y/N) informs in a hiss through her teeth, shaking her head with disapproval. “See, we actually take care of each other in this gang. Can you say the same for the O’Driscolls? We’ve seen them in action. It’s every man for himself in the heat of a gunfight for them, but not for us. We’re a family.”

John nods rapidly at this. “This is why you’re an O’Driscoll, O’Driscoll,” he spits the word ‘O'Driscoll out like a curse, scoffing. “You’re out to survive. We’re out to live… free.” He adjusts his grips on the reins of his horse. “Colm’s a sneak thief and a killer. Dutch is… Dutch is more like a teacher.”

Kieran sighs, shrugging lightly. “From where I been, you just look the same is all.”

“Then you looked. But you ain’t seen,” John dismisses.

“If we were the same as the O’Driscolls, do you think we’d have women and a child with us? You think I’d be allowed here?” (Y/N) demands bluntly, scoffing. “O’Driscolls rape and kill anyone they come across that ain’t them. They don’t care about nothin’ except for their own sick pleasures, and kill without hesitation. Recall what happened to Mrs. Adler?” she continues in a sharp tone. “Out in the middle of nowhere and still she and her husband weren't safe from their cruelty.”

(Y/N) looks down with a hardened expression, her jaw clenching. She wishes that they’d found her and Jake before the O’Driscolls had. If they’d have been there just three days sooner… maybe they could’ve been there to help them. Mrs. Adler wouldn’t have had to suffer so much to the point she doesn’t want to even be alive anymore.

Kieran listens to her with a deep frown, his brow furrowing in a disheartened manner.

“Next time, keep your thoughts to yourself, O’Driscoll,” (Y/N) dismisses as well with a sharp sigh, shaking her head.

Arthur nods in agreement. “John, shut that boy up,” he chimes in with irritation evident in his tone.

“Enough out of you,” John sternly orders Kieran, giving him a sharp, warning look over his shoulder.

With that, Kieran remains silent the rest of the ride, his expression indicating he was deep in thought as he stares at the path ahead around John’s form. The group is quiet as they road along the path, passing by Firwood Rise.

“Uh— okay— okay, now… cut left up here. We go down the hill and into the forest,” Kieran calls, bringing himself from his thoughts as he gestures ahead briefly.

John steers Old Boy off the path as the others follow, the grass brushing against their horse’s legs as the animals slow to a trot.

“We’re almost there,” (Y/N) comments out loud, the woman viewing over the map Hosea had given her.

Six Point Cabin seemed just like an ordinary plot of land on the map, a frown on her face. Who knows how many other farms and lands on the map also were hideouts for the O’Driscolls? How much of this land did they control? She shakes her head at the thought.

“Alright,” Arthur softly acknowledges, his voice raising a bit as he addresses John and Bill, “Now, who knows if this son of a bitch we got with us is talkin’ true, but if it’s what he says it is, and Colm O’Driscoll’s here… we can end years of fighting. Here and now.”

(Y/N) lets out a soft exhale. “Imagine that…”

“Amen,” John acknowledges.

“Here, here!” Bill chimes in with enthusiasm and agreement.

If Colm was here, it would be over. They wouldn’t have to worry about the O’Driscolls showing up at all, threatening them along with the Pinkertons and lawmen. Kill the leader, and the rest would scatter to the wind without his so-called guidance and hatred fueling them.

Kieran looks between the group, a small, hesitant smile forming on his face. “I swear, this is where he—” he starts with growing confidence.

“Shut up,” John curtly cuts him off.

Kieran deflates instantly at this, his face falling and his eyes averting down. The group make their way towards the treeline, John falling back and allowing Arthur and (Y/N) to take the lead as they draw near.

“Alright, we’re goin’ in quiet,” Arthur instructs the group as he guides Lance along the treeline, (Y/N) guiding (H/N) to trot alongside him. “Takin’ them out as we find ‘em, trying not to set things off.” He slows Lance to a walk, prompting the others to do the same. “But if we do, we move quick and hard. We settle this like we know how. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” (Y/N) agrees without hesitation.

Arthur looks to her with a brief and faint smile of fondness as he nods, looking ahead once more.

“Okay with me,” John agrees after her with a nod.

“With you, Morgan,” Bill chimes in as well.

“Alright then,” Arthur acknowledges with approval.

Kieran motions ahead with a tilt of his chin. “Through the trees there.”

Arthur glances back as Kieran motions ahead once more, Arthur facing forward as he guides his horse though the trees. (Y/N) slows (H/N) to follow behind him, John and Bill doing the same to follow one another in one line to avoid the trees as they start to cluster the further they go in. There is a faint, barely visible dirt path winding through the trees, the group following it to a small clearing.

“We’re real close,” Kieran warns the group, glancing around warily. “I’d leave your horses on the other side of this clearing.”

Bill nods as he pats Brown Jack’s thick neck. “I’ll get my guns off my horses and I’ll be ready,” he states confidently.

Arthur sighs softly at this with mild annoyance, but before he could speak up, (Y/N) beat him to it.

“Follow what Arthur said, Bill. Quiet, unless we’re noticed,” she tells the burly man in a firm but not unkind manner.

Bill huffs and frowns at this, but he nods in agreement before looking ahead, seemingly mildly annoyed at the reminder. The group continue their way forward with Arthur leading them, (Y/N) reaching into her saddle bag and fishing out the throwing knives Bill had so graciously gifted her and Arthur. She slides her bow off her saddle as well, replacing the rifle she had on her shoulder with it and securing her rifle in her saddle, keeping her pistol on her hip as always.

“This is it,” Kieran calls to Arthur in a hushed whisper. “The cabin’s just the other side of this hill.”

“Okay. Off your horses, let’s go,” Arthur urges the group with a firm nod, the man gently tugging Lance to a stop.

Lance nickers softly as he obliges, rumbling quietly as Arthur slides off him. The horse observes Arthur for a few moments as the man rummages through his saddlebag for the throwing knives, Lance’s neck craning back as he gives Arthur’s shoulder a few curious sniffs. His lip curls as he lightly nibbles at Arthur’s sleeve, causing the man to snort softly and pat Lance’s neck as he steps back from the animal, ready to go with his knives. He decides to leave his bow, wanting a bit more practice before using it to infiltrate an O’Driscoll camp, and instead slides his rifle over his shoulder, just in case.

He turns and sees (Y/N) ready as well, (H/N) softly neighing as she turns and trots off towards the clearing with her ears perked with interest. Lance doesn’t hesitate to follow the mare, his trots smooth and long on his tall legs.

John and Bill join Arthur with (Y/N), Kieran dismounting Old Boy as well and scrambling over as John keeps a sharp eye on the man.

“F— Follow me, alright? It ain’t far,” Kieran assures, nodding his head as he starts to walk slowly forward.

The others follow, John keeping close with his hand hovering near his hunting knife.

“We might’ve shared a horse, but we ain’t friends,” John lowly reminds, his voice full of warning as he slowly unsheathes his knife. “Remember, I’m watching you. Every. Moment.”

Kieran huffs at this, keeping his voice down as they make their way up the small hill, “I ain’t gonna shop you now, come on! It’d be suicide!” he whispers indignantly.

Bill walks near the two, Arthur and (Y/N) taking the rear as they keep their eyes peeled for any movement in the trees.

“You’ll die, boy,” Bill assures warningly as they continue up the small incline leading into a brush of trees and bushes. “But you’ll lose your balls, first.”

Kieran gives Bill a wary side-eye. “Jesus Christ,” he groans with exasperation.

He looks ahead, perking up at the sight of the cabin and O’Driscoll camp peeking through the trees.

“There! There! You see?” he eagerly whispers to the group, looking around with a hopeful look on his face as he tentatively smiles.

John sighs and lightly rolls his eyes. “Okay. Get down,” he tells the others, ignoring Kieran.

The group crouch low as they reach the edge of the ridge, a steep drop ahead of them and the hill slowly declining to the left and leading down to the O’Driscoll camp. The camp itself was hidden by clusters of trees surrounding it, the cabin peeking through the tall, thick trunks. The camp itself was messy with a few tents pitched up here and there, a handful of campfires that were unlit scattered around with empty bottles of beer and trash scattered along the muddy ground. O’Driscolls were seen in the camp lazying about, only a few actually patrolling the trees down below from what they could tell.

“The cabin’s in the clearing down there,” Kieran tells the group, nodding forward as he rests his forearm on his thigh. “There’ll be a bunch of fellers hiding out there, too,” he warns as he points along the trees.

“Are these fellers armed?” Arthur questions, his hand lifting and adjusting the brim of his hat.

Kieran snorts under his breath. “Armed. Drunk. Wary of strangers, yup,” he confirms in a whisper.

“Guessin’ Colm would be inside all tucked in and cozy,” (Y/N) comments as she shifts to rest her weight on her knee and shin, her arm draped comfortably on her thigh.

Kieran huffs and nods in agreement as he lightly scowls. “He’ll be passed out, booze blind, likely as not.”

“Hey, over there,” Bill’s voice gruffly speaks up, gaining their attention as he gestures down the hill with his knife. “Someone’s comin’.”

-

Down further, three of O’Driscoll’s men walk side by side through the trees, no doubt on patrol.

“So, uh… who’s gonna tell him we ain’t got nothing for the pot?” one questions in a thick, Irish accent.

“Let— Let me think,” the other replies with uncertainty.

Kieran shifts lightly, prompting John to swiftly cover his mouth with his hand and yank him back, his other hand drawing his pistol and aiming it at his temple in warning. Kieran lets out a stifled grunt of mild protest, but he doesn’t fight, his hands partially lifted in a surrendering manner as the group watch the men.

“Feller that spooked the game, I reckon,” one with a lighter, more carefree voice mumbles, his words a bit slurred from alcohol no doubt.

One of the men stumbles a bit as he leans against a nearby tree, sniffling and rubbing his hand along his flushed cheek.

“I’m gonna drain it,” he tells the two, his hands lowering to fumble lightly with his belt. “I’ll catch up.”

The man leading them lets out a groan, shaking his head. “Naw, we ain’t gonna fall for that,” he tells the other man sternly. “We’re gonna wait so you can tell him yourself.”

The man undoing his belt rolls his eyes, turning to face the tree as he unzips his pants. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

The two other men stop a few feet away to give the one currently pissing some privacy, the other man of the two snickering.

“If anyone’s actually gonna shoot the messenger, it’d be that mean son of a bitch,” he comments.

“Mhm, yes sir,” the other agrees as he stumbles on his feet, grumbling. “Come on! Shake it off!” he barks to the man pissing impatiently.

The man peeing simply waves his hand dismissively, seeming intent on taking his time.

-

Arthur glances back to John with a nod, giving Kieran a warning glare. “Shh!” he sharply hisses.

Kieran nods mutely and stiffly, giving Arthur a weak thumbs up with one hand to confirm he’d be quiet.

Arthur huffs as he turns away, his eyes scanning the path down to the clearing. “C’mon.”

He takes the lead, (Y/N) right on his tail with her bow drawn and the other following. John gives Kieran a sharp glare, forcing him forward as the group move in a crouched walk. Arthur slows as he scans the path ahead, prompting the others to do the same.

“What’re we doin’ about the pisser, Morgan? The one by the tree?” Bill questions, keeping his voice quiet. “You want me to take him?”

Arthur nods with a quiet grunt. “He’s yours, Williamson.”

“Okay. I got him.” Bill exhales deeply as he draws his knife, making his way down the hill towards the man peeing.

(Y/N) adjusts her bow as she keeps an arrow notched, her eyes flicking along the trees to keep watch as Bill continues towards the man. After letting Bill get some distance, Arthur motions for (Y/N) and John to follow.

“Now stay here,” John growls at Kieran as he roughly shoves the man aside. “And don’t you damn move.”

Kieran looks apprehensive about being left behind as he watches the trio make their way down the hill, (Y/N) taking point behind a tree as John ducks behind a boulder. Arthur crouches low in the grass, Bill creeping up on the man just as he starts to tug his pants up. Bill swiftly rises and grabs the man from behind, slicing his throat. The man softly gurgles and staggers back, Bill catching his body and slowly lowering it to the ground.

(Y/N) looks ahead at the two men as she shifts her weight silently, her eyes flicking to Arthur in the brush. She licks her lips before she lets out a soft whistle that imitates a simple bird call, Arthur’s eyes darting to the woman instinctively.

She tilts her head to the men ahead as she draws her bow string back, her eyes remaining on Arthur. Arthur nods as he takes out one of the throwing knives Bill had given him, the man silently praying he remembered how to throw them properly, as it had been a while since he had.

(Y/N) focuses on the man on the left, her breathing steady and soft as she adjusts her grip and stance. She aims at the base of his neck, exhaling sharply as she fires the arrow. Arthur throws his knife at the same time at the man on the right, the small, thin blade spiraling through the air as her arrow flies.

Her arrow pierces through the back of the man’s neck, his knife striking and burying deep into the scalp of the other. The man (Y/N) had shot sputters as he chokes on his blood, collapsing to the ground as the man Arthur had killed falls silently, killed instantly from the blow.

Arthur sighs deeply as he approaches the corpse, retrieving his knife as (Y/N) does the same for her arrow, the woman flinging blood off the arrowhead. Her eyes lift as she notices his gaze on her, the man’s lips quirking in a faint smile as he nods at her in silent praise, making her own lips twitch upward.

“Good work,” John praises the two, shifting his weight as he starts to slowly creep forward. “We moving on the camp?”

(Y/N)’s eyes avert down hastily as she clears her throat softly, feeling a bit sheepish as she and Arthur turn away from one another. Arthur adjusts the throwing knife in his hand, nodding to John in response as they start to press forward.

“Uh— what about the O’Driscoll? Will he be fine up there?” (Y/N) asks John, her voice lowered.

John snickers faintly. “Yeah, our little guide will be fine. He’s meek as a little lamb.”

“He better be,” Arthur grumbles lowly under his breath, shaking his head.

The group take their positions closer to the camp, John peering around a thick tree trunk with (Y/N) on the other side, Bill across from them looking out as well. Arthur squats down lower as he looks over the camp thoughtfully, his jaw working as he thinks. A few men roam the camp but most are lounging about carelessly, one man sitting on a fallen and hollowed tree log with his back facing the group as he munches on a tin of peaches.

“Take him quiet, Marston,” Arthur orders in a hushed voice, nodding ahead. “Get your hands dirty for a change.”

John rolls his eyes at this with a huff, but he doesn’t protest. “Okay.”

He makes his way forward slowly and carefully as he draws his hunting knife, his dark eyes fixated on the back of the O’Driscoll. With a swift motion, he rises, the man grasping the O’Driscoll’s shoulder before sinking his knife into the side of his neck multiple times. Blood splatters and gushes from the stab wounds, (Y/N) grimacing at the squelching sound.

“Jesus,” Arthur comments under his breath, earning a quiet snort and a nod of agreement at the sentiment.

“You did say for him to get his hands dirty…” she whispers back pointedly with a teasing smile, causing the man to faintly smile with exasperated amusement.

John tugs the man’s body back and guides him down to the ground, hiding him along the side of the fallen log in the grass. He pants softly as he wipes the blood of his blade off on the corpse’s clothing, his head craning back to look at Arthur as Arthur approaches with (Y/N) and Bill.

“What now, Arthur?” (Y/N) questions as she shifts her weight to be more comfortable, peering at the camp. “Are we just gonna… rush in, or keep up this creeping around act? Either way, we’re with you.”

Arthur’s eyes briefly scan along the camp, the words from (Y/N) sending a warmth through his chest. He knew full well she trusted his judgement— even if at times he himself questioned it. It made him feel… stronger. More confident. Like he was someone worth following.

“Think we should move in on ‘em,” he replies after a moment, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “You?”

(Y/N) lets out a faint snicker at his question, a fond smile forming on her lips. He was always asking for her opinion, even if she and the others were following his lead at the moment. It was sweet.

“Sounds fine to me,” she agrees with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

Arthur nods, turning his head to look from Bill to John. “You two ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” John assures with a nod of his head.

“Let’s go,” Bill eagerly and lowly urges.

John draws his pistol and rises as Bill wields his rifle, (Y/N) rising as well as she draws an arrow. Arthur smoothly draws his own rifle, taking careful aim

“How you doin’, O’Driscolls?!” John cheerfully calls to the group, his voice void of any warmth and friendliness.

One of the men whip around with wide eyes, only to be met with an arrow to his face, courtesy of (Y/N). The other men exclaim with shock as bullets start to fly in their direction, several striking the men floundering as they’re caught off guard. Blood sprays across the land as corpses collapse to the ground around the unlit campfire, drinks knocked over and food dropped.

The group press forward into the camp as they apply pressure to the O’Driscolls still remaining as they start to fight back, (Y/N) sliding her bow on her shoulder as she starts to fire at the men with her pistol instead, ducking behind the cover of a wagon. Horses nearby neigh frantically at the commotion, adding to the chaos.

Bill shouts lewd insults at the men as he charges in like a bull, surprisingly agile as he circles around to get a better angle on the men holing up near the cabin and behind the wagon across the camp. John keeps low and moves quick from cover to cover, laughing and cracking jokes as he fires his gun at the men, striking them down as they peek out from cover.

(Y/N) makes a quick dash towards the cabin, quickly lowering and sliding with a wince to the cover of a crate as she was fired at. She ducks low as the wood of the crate splinters from the bullet that had been fired in her direction, the woman lifting her pistol only from cover and blindly shooting ahead.

Arthur presses against the wall of the cabin as he makes his way along it, the man’s sharp eyes spotting the O’Driscoll that had (Y/N) pinned down a few feet away. Her bullets strike against the wagon’s wheel and hit several other places, missing the O’Driscoll by a few inches due to the fact she wasn’t looking.

He raises his rifle, firing at the few O’Driscoll men that had been hiding behind the wagon, catching them off guard as they exclaim. (Y/N)’s head peeks out from cover quickly, the woman beaming with gratitude in Arthur’s direction as she rises. Bill charges in from the other side, firing as well without mercy or hesitation. John rises and bolts forward as he scans around quickly for any sign of others, dust settling over the camp from the bodies collapsing to the ground and the stench of blood and death heavy in the air.

The sound of horses makes John tense up, the man hissing under his breath.

“Some fellers coming back into camp! Watch out!” he shouts urgently as he finds cover. “He weren’t lyin’, that little toad!”

His warning prompts the others to quickly scatter and take cover as well, a handful of O’Driscolls riding in and dismounting hastily as their horses quickly flee with panicked whinnies and neighs. The O’Driscolls make their stand in the trees, using the trunks as cover as the two groups exchange bullets. However, it was obvious that they were at a disadvantage without proper coordination and the fact they were no doubt drunk, a handful of the group starting to scatter through the trees once enough of them were downed and killed.

“We got ‘em on the run!” Bill cheerfully exclaims, practically giddy as he starts after them, like a man on the hunt.

“Leave them!” Arthur barks sternly as he pants softly, the man’s eyes coldly regarding the cabin. “Colm’s still here.”

He hadn’t seen anyone leaving— he’d made damn sure to keep his eyes on that cabin through the gunfight. Bill huffs with disappointment, but he’s smart enough to listen to Arthur, the man sliding his rifle on his shoulder. John holsters his gun as he looks around the camp warily, his nose a bit crinkled at the smell. (Y/N) runs her hand through her hair and breathes out deeply as she holsters her pistol, shaking her hand out as her shoulders slowly relax.

“You gonna check it, or you want me to?” (Y/N) questions as she approaches Arthur, the back of her hand lightly wiping some sweat from her forehead, her hair a bit disarrayed from the gunfight.

“I got it, darlin’, don’t worry,” Arthur assures without hesitation, offering her a small smile as he rolls his shoulder.

Without thinking, his hand reaches out, his fingers gently and tentatively brushing aside a stray strand. (Y/N) tenses momentarily with surprise, causing a flare of unease to fill Arthur as his hand freezes. Shit. Why’d he go and do that?

To his relief, her posture softens once more as she smiles up at him in a way that makes his chest feel tight and his face feel warm, and he’s glad he can blame that on the adrenaline of the fight and the sun shining overhead. He gruffly clears his throat as his eyes avert downward, the man’s hand reluctantly lowering before lifting to the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture.

“Uh— you go on and check out the camp,” Arthur calls to John and Bill, nodding for (Y/N) to do the same as he offers her a small smile.

(Y/N) lets out a mildly amused puff of air, nodding. “Alright then,” she muses, her voice fond and light.

She turns and heads off towards the center of the O’Driscoll camp with John and Bill, the trio searching through the bodies of the O’Driscoll men and ransacking anything they could find. Arthur watches her with a lingering gaze before shaking himself out of it, the man sighing deeply as he approaches the cabin’s worn front door.

Arthur lifts his hat as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair, exhaling deeply and lost in thought as he reaches for the door. A startled shout leaves Arthur when the door was suddenly slammed open, the door roughly colliding with the man and sending him to the ground on his backside.

The wind is knocked out of him as he winces in pain, gasping as his eyes snap upward. His heart sinks at the sight of a gun barrel aimed directly at his face, an O’Driscoll’s ugly mug grinning maniacally and laughing in the face of Arthur’s caught-off-guard fear as Arthur’s hands lift defensively. Arthur’s face pales and he can’t react, the O’Driscoll’s finger twitching on the trigger—

A gunshot rings out, a burst of blood spraying from the O’Driscoll’s chest as he gasps sharply, his frame stumbling. His hands fumble and he drops the rifle as he gasps for air, clutching at the gunshot wound in his chest desperately. He lets out groans of agony and wheezes loudly, collapsing to the wooden deck beside Arthur with a heavy thud.

Arthur breathes heavily and sharply, his eyes wide and unblinking as he processes what the hell just happened. He swiftly sits up as he stares at the O’Driscoll’s corpse, his head whipping to look back. He had fully expected to see (Y/N), but to his absolute shock, he sees Kieran.

Kieran stands a few paces away as he holds a pistol in his trembling hand, Arthur exhaling shakily with wide eyes. A growing sense of embarrassment slowly washes over Arthur, the man feeling absolutely foolish for not even considering the dangers before waltzing up to the front door of the cabin. He should’ve looked through the windows— he should’ve had his gun out!

Arthur lets out a deep breath as he allows his back to drop back down on the wooden deck, his breathing heavy as he catches his winded breath.

“You alright?!” Kieran frantically questions, his voice jittery with adrenaline as he pants softly.

“Sure,” Arthur drawls in a monotone, sighing deeply. “Thank you,” he adds reluctantly, his arms outstretched on either side of him.

Kieran bounces on his feet as he rushes to the side a few paces, his eyes wide as he looks around nervously for any more O’Driscolls.

“Arthur!” a voice calls with worry and a tinge of panic.

Oh. Great. Just what he needed. (Y/N) seeing him like this.

A low groan leaves Arthur as his hands lift, rubbing over his face.

“Arthur, are you—” (Y/N) quickly questions as she rounds the cabin in a sprint with her pistol drawn, nearly tripping over herself as she comes to a stop.

She blinks rapidly at the sight of Arthur on the ground and the O’Driscoll corpse beside him, her eyes snapping to Kieran, who tenses up. Kieran offers her a sheepish and nervous smile, his hand lifting his pistol upward in a non-threatening manner as he stammers softly.

“H— Hey! Uh— I, uh…” he stammers out, gulping softly.

(Y/N)’s eyes snap from Kieran’s pistol to the corpse, then to Arthur, who remained in place on the ground with his hands covering his face.

“You…” (Y/N) hesitates as she eyes Kieran for a moment with disbelief. “Did you… Did you save him?” she questions with disbelief.

Kieran’s eyes dart between (Y/N) and Arthur’s prone form a few times, the man nodding his head once as he lets out a nervous sound that could be considered confirmation and a wheezy laugh. (Y/N)’s features falter even further with surprise, a flicker of what appears to be gratitude and relief in her eyes. She regards Kieran apprehensively for a moment, the woman then looking down at Arthur as she slowly approaches the man.

“Arthur…” she starts softly with worry, tilting her head to see his face— though, his hands still covered it.

Arthur grunts softly as he rises in a swift motion, dusting himself off and grumbling under his breath with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he assures in a mumble. He sighs heavily, lifting his gaze to hers. “Really. I am.”

“Okay… okay, good,” (Y/N) breathes out with relief, nodding as she adjusts her grip on her pistol. “How about… we both check the cabin?” she suggests with a weak laugh. “Safer that way. I mean, hell, you’ve had… two close calls today. I need to keep an eye on you, mister.”

“Oh, please do,” Arthur sarcastically replies, though his voice is tinged with fondness, the man secretly pleased. “Come on.”

Arthur takes the lead, smoothly drawing his pistol and aiming around once he steps inside the cabin. (Y/N) peers around him with her own gun held ready, her eyes scanning along the trashed cabin. It was empty inside, save for empty bottles of beer, scattered playing cards, and dishes thrown about.

“Colm O’Driscoll… he ain’t here,” Arthur murmurs under his breath with frustration.

(Y/N) sighs softly, feeling disappointment stirring within her. All this fuss, and Colm wasn’t even here. It was nice, thinking that maybe they could’ve settled the feud between Dutch and Colm here and now. But it wouldn’t be that easy, it seems. It never is.

Arthur’s jaw clenches, the man turning on his heel sharply as he stomps outside. “You set us up,” he growls lowly, his eyes locked on Kieran. “Come here!” he barks.

(Y/N) looks back and quickly steps out as well, Kieran jumping before rushing over towards Arthur.

“What?” Kieran questions, the man holstering his gun in an act of peace.

“You set us up,” Arthur accuses with a dangerous scowl, stomping closer as he lifts his pistol and aims it at Kieran.

Kieran’s face pales, his eyes widening. “N— No, I didn’t!”

“You did! Colm O’Driscoll ain’t here!” Arthur snarls back.

“He was here!” Kieran insists hastily in a panic, rapidly shaking his head. “I swear! I swear—”

(Y/N) looks between the two as her lips press together in a thin line, the woman running a hand over her head and exhaling deeply.

“Arthur, if he… set us up, he wouldn’t have saved you,” (Y/N) points out reluctantly with a soft sigh, stepping closer to the man as she eyes Kieran. “It would’ve been… devastating, losing you. To the gang… but to me, the most.”

Arthur’s eyes flick to the woman as he keeps his gun trained on Kieran, the man’s jaw clenching lightly as he considers her words. His heart is still pounding with adrenaline from the near-death experience, his hand clenched tightly around his pistol to keep from trembling faintly. The thought of going out in such a foolish way and leaving (Y/N) behind made his chest feel tight, and he… felt grateful to the damn O’Driscoll boy. Grateful that he was still here to be at her side. That he didn’t leave her alone.

The gang, too, of course.

“Y—Y— Yeah! She’s right!” Kieran exclaims in agreement with relief, eagerly nodding as he points and wags his finger up and down in emphasis. “I— I— I wouldn’t have saved your life!”

Bill and John, having overheard, make their way over, Bill letting out a disappointed sigh as he shrugs with a slight nod of agreement.

“It’s a good point, Arthur,” he states apprehensively.

John eyes Kieran with a guarded scowl, clearly still not willing to let his guard down despite the situation.

Arthur lets out a frustrated grumble as he lowers his pistol, holstering it. “Alright, then.”

Kieran’s shoulders sag with relief, the man hesitantly offering his hand to Arthur. However, Arthur’s eyes are fixed on Kieran’s, and he ignores it, his chin jerking up to the trees.

“Go on!” Arthur instructs firmly, resting his hands on his gunbelt. “Get out of here.”

Kieran’s face falls with confusion as he lets out a puzzled sound, his hand slowly dropping.

“I won’t kill you,” Arthur tells the man with annoyance.

Kieran frowns. “I didn’t set you up—”

“Get lost!” Arthur barks.

“Get lost?” Kieran repeats, seeming absolutely baffled and caught off guard.

(Y/N) steps back with a look of surprise as Arthur’s hand reaches out, snatching the front of Kieran’s shirt.

“I’m lettin’ you run away!” Arthur exclaims with exasperation, spelling it out to Kieran as he throws the man a few paces ahead. “Now, go on! Get out of here!” He waves his hand dismissively and firmly with a nod.

Kieran stumbles and looks back with wide eyes, his features distressed as he shakes his head. “That’s as good as killing me!” he argues, stomping back towards Arthur and pausing a few feet away. “Out there? Without you…” He points to the woods, letting out a hopeless laugh.

He exhales shakily, pointing to the massacre of the camp.

“Colm O’Driscoll’s gonna lose his mind about this,” Kieran states the obvious.

“I imagine he will,” (Y/N) agrees slowly with a raised brow, her arms folding over her chest. “Your point, being…?”

Kieran lets out a soft scoff, gesturing to the group. “My point being… I’m one of you, now.”

John chortles under his breath with a roll of his eyes, Bill frowning lightly and shifting his weight on his feet. (Y/N)’s eyes flick to Arthur, her arms slowly lowering as she watches the man.

“He…” (Y/N) sighs, shaking her head and glancing up to the sky briefly. “He did save you. And led us here,” she quietly tells the man.

Arthur lets out a deep, exasperated groan, the man rubbing a hand over his stubble. “Give me a break…” he complains quietly under his breath, stepping forward. “Alright then,” he calls to Kieran.

The man stomps towards Kieran, who tenses up and hastily staggers back as Arthur points firmly in his face.

“But I’m warning you… you pose any danger to her or the others…” he trails off, leaving his threat unfinished as he marches past Kieran.

“O— Oh, I know!” Kieran assures with heavy, relieved breath.

“Come on, then. Let’s get back to camp,” Arthur gruffly tells the others.

(Y/N) hastily follows Arthur and walks alongside him, Bill and John walking side by side behind them. Kieran trails behind, the man glancing to the cabin.

“So you got the cash, then?” Kieran calls to Arthur quickly, gesturing to the cabin.

(Y/N) slows to a stop and looks back with Arthur, the two exchanging a quick look.

“Cash?” (Y/N) repeats, fully turning to face the man.

Kieran nods with a tentative smile, shrugging. “Yeah, there’s usually some cash. In the chimney!” he informs giddily, turning and starting towards the cabin.

“We’ll check it!” Arthur sternly calls to Kieran, causing the man to halt in his tracks. “Rest of you boys, get back to camp, quick,” he tells Bill and John.

(Y/N) lightly bumps her shoulder in John’s with a small smile, nodding to him and Bill. “See you.”

She walks beside Arthur as they approach the cabin’s front door, Kieran’s eyes following the two.

“You see, Arthur? I ain’t so bad!” Kieran cheerfully speaks, obviously in a much better mood now that he was not only freed, but part of them, now.

(Y/N) snorts softly at this, playfully elbowing Arthur. “Maybe he isn’t,” she jokes quietly to the man, grinning.

Arthur lets out a sarcastic laugh and nudges her back, the man glancing back to John and Bill. The two men whistle for their horses, (Y/N) doing the same, knowing that Arthur’s horse Lance would no doubt follow her (H/N).

“Hey, Bill,” he calls to the large man, John and Kieran mounting Old Boy. “You tell Dutch old Kieran ain’t worth killin’. Just yet.”

Bill nods at this as he mounts Brown Jack. “Right you are.”

With that, the men head out, leaving (Y/N) and Arthur alone to search the O’Driscoll cabin. The sound of familiar neighing could be heard close by, (H/N) making her way through the trees with her ears facing forward and her head lifted high, Lance trotting after her closely. Spotting Arthur and (Y/N) on the porch, the horses slow to a stop and settle, getting comfortable as they wait for their owners.

(Y/N) looks down at the corpse of the O’Driscoll Kieran had killed, the woman glaring at the body and stepping over it as she makes her way inside. Arthur’s own eyes linger on the corpse, the gun beside the body a reminder of how close he’d come to death.

“I’ll check around this place. See if there’s any ammo or anything edible that ain’t booze,” (Y/N) tells Arthur with a half-smile, making the man nod and chuckle faintly.

“Alright.”

Arthur makes his way to the chimney as (Y/N) starts to loot the cabin space, the man looking over the chimney. His brows lift with appreciation at the sight of a double-barreled shotgun on the mantle, the man reaching out and carefully plucking the decent weapon off the display and looking over it.

“(Y/N),” the man calls, making her look up from looting the cabinets.

She rises and approaches, Arthur holding the weapon out to her with a nod for her to take it.

“To replace the one you lost in Blackwater,” he tells her in a softened voice, holding it towards her.

(Y/N)’s eyes drop to the shotgun and lift back to Arthur, the woman feeling her lips curve up in a delighted smile. “Thank you, Arthur. I appreciate it.”

Arthur says nothing back, but he does nod once more with a small grin, the man pleased that he had made her a bit happy. (Y/N) takes the shotgun and looks over it with awe for a brief moment, the woman then sliding it over her shoulder as she approaches the table with the abandoned poker game scattered along it.

“Few money clips here,” (Y/N) informs with a hint of cheer, counting out the bills in each clip. “Found a few boxes of shotgun ammo, but that’s about it. Find the money?”

Arthur lowers down onto his knee and leans close to the chimney, the man grunting softly with effort as he lifts his arm at an angle and feels around inside. His hand brushes against something firm, the man grabbing hold and firmly yanking on it. He pulls out a thick stack of money wrapped in a cloth, Arthur unwinding the stack and raising his brows with a quiet whistle.

“Yeah,” he calls back. “A good amount, too. Here, darlin’.”

(Y/N) looks over and approaches in a few strides, her eyes landing on the money and winding as she blinks rapidly. “Oh, wow!” she breathes with pleasant surprise.

Arthur briskly counts the bills, the bills racking up to $600 total in a various amount of bills. He counts out $100, the man holding it out to (Y/N) and pocketing away another $100 for himself.

“Rest can go to the gang,” he declares with a pleased smile, tucking the wad of cash away safely into his satchel.

“Sounds good to me,” (Y/N) agrees cheerfully, looking over the cash bills he’d given her with delight. “Oh, this is great. We’ll be well off for a little while.”

Arthur nods as the two make their way out of the cabin, (Y/N) sighing and stretching as she approaches her horse. She gives the animal a tender caress along her neck, the woman hesitating and looking back to Arthur, who was feeding Lance an oatcake.

“Hey,” she calls, her voice quiet and hopeful. “I was thinkin’... there’s still some time left in the day, and Valentine ain’t far from here…”

Arthur gives her a look for her to continue, the man’s focus on her as Lance happily munches on the oatcake from his palm.

“Well, I thought about what Uncle said. About the bounty hunting,” she continues with a tilt of her head. “We’ve always been good at it. We get the job done quick and efficiently, and it’s extra money. We could probably do one now, and spend the night over in Valentine instead of returnin’ to camp right away.”

Arthur’s brow lifts with a hint of surprise as he considers her words, his lips quirking up in a faint smile. He chuckles lightly, the man’s arms folding over his chest.

“That your way of tellin’ me you want me all to yourself away from camp?” he questions playfully with a teasing grin on his face.

(Y/N) blinks owlishly at the question, her thoughts coming to a screeching halt. Her face becomes out as she clears her throat, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Oh, shut up! No! That’s not— I mean, I didn’t… that is, I…” she stammers, feeling tongue-tied and flustered. She mentally shakes herself to get her wits together, the woman clearing her throat once more. “I mean… camp’s… good and all, but it’s been a little…”

Arthur lets out a fond chuckle, taking pity on her. “Chaotic?” he finishes for her, nodding. “Yeah.” He snorts softly as he looks over her, feeling oddly pleased with himself at her state. “I was only jokin’, darlin’,” he says with amusement.

(Y/N) huffs softly, watching as Arthur turns and smoothly mounts Lance.

“Very funny. You are a true comedian,” she sarcastically replies, mounting (H/N) as well.

“Glad you noticed,” he quips back.

Arthur glances up to the sky, taking a deep breath and nodding his head.

“Let’s get goin’, then. Another day or two away from camp with you sounds… nice,” he speaks softly, guiding Lance forward as (Y/N) urges (H/N) to follow. “And we’ll come back with money for the gang.”

(Y/N) feels her heart flutter in her chest as he specifies being away camp with her sounds nice, the woman’s head ducking a bit as she tries to bite back the bright smile that graces her features.

“Yeah. This is purely to just… get more money for the gang. Bounties usually… fetch a good price,” she agrees casually, guiding (H/N) to walk alongside Lance.

Arthur lets out a faint snort under his breath. “Yeah, they… sure do.”

His eyes flick to the woman riding beside him, his features softening as he observes her obviously pleased expression. Despite her attempts to seem casual about it, he can see the smile on her face as she looks around, and it makes his own lips twitch upward.

Arthur glances ahead as they exit the woods onto the path, the man perking up. A rare, playful smile etches onto his face, the man’s grip tightening on Lance’s reins.

“How about a rematch, darlin’?” he questions casually, tilting his head.

(Y/N)’s brought out of her thoughts, the woman turning to look at the man. “A rematch—?”

She barely blinks before Arthur is letting out a ‘hyah!’, the man abruptly spurring Lance into a gallop. (H/N) neighs with surprise and jumps a bit, her ears perking forward with interest as she watches Lance run down the path, a dust cloud behind them.

“Hey!” (Y/N) exclaims indignantly. “Arthur! You damn cheater!”

She’s only met by the sound of the man’s hearty laughter, and she can’t help the amused giggle that escapes her own lips. That sound coming from Arthur never failed to make her chest feel light and warm, and she wished she got to hear it more often. But she was fine with brief moments like this among the chaos of their lives, and cherished each one.

With an encouraging shout, (Y/N) spurs (H/N) into a gallop, (H/N) letting out a high pitched whinny as she takes off after Lance, the dirt kicking up behind the two as they race their way back to Valentine, leaving the O’Driscolls now-emptied camp behind.

Chapter Text

It was nearing evening by the time Arthur and (Y/N) rode into Valentine, both nearly taking out a caravan in the process as their horses raced one another. They were both neck and neck, (H/N) having caught up with Arthur and Lance with surprising ease. The poor man driving the caravan lets out a shriek as he yanks on his reins, the shire horses neighing in protest fiercely as the caravan jostles. (Y/N) grimaces and shouts an apology as she slows (H/N) a tad to look back, Arthur letting out a hearty laugh as he uses the distraction to pull ahead with Lance.

(Y/N) lets out an indignant sound of protest as she spurs (H/N) after the man, the two racing along the path as it quickly turns into mud. Abruptly, Arthur tugs on Lance's reins, causing the horse to let out a powerful neigh as he skids to a stop in a smooth motion alongside the Sheriff's building. (Y/N) pulls (H/N) to a stop, the horse skidding as well and performing a small hop to regain her balance as she lets out a nicker, shaking her head out as both mighty animals pant loudly through flaring nostrils.

(Y/N) lets out a huff as she guides (H/N) closer to Arthur and Lance, the woman playfully glaring at him with feigned annoyance.

"You... are a damn cheater," she accuses, her hand reaching up to smooth back some of her hair that had gotten disarrayed from the race.

Arthur lets out a snort as he starts to guide Lance onto the path, a subtle, amused smirk on his face.

"Me? A cheater?" he questions with mock offense and shock, reaching up and adjusting his hat on his head. "I don't know what you mean, darlin'."

(Y/N) lightly rolls her eyes with a fond smile as they guide their horses to the hitching posts outside of the Sheriff's building, the town of Valentine still bustling with many folk.

"Uh-huh, sure," (Y/N) sarcastically agrees, dismounting (H/N) and patting the side of her neck gently as she loops the reins around the hitching post.

Her eyes flick over to the gunsmith across the road, the woman's expression perking up a fraction as her gaze returns to Arthur.

"Hey. I'm gonna head to the gunsmith real quick to get us some ammo and maybe some gun oil," she tells the man, watching as he dismounts Lance.

Arthur looks over to her with a nod of his head, his eyes flicking around the town for a brief moment. "Okay. Just... careful now. I'll be here if you need me."

(Y/N) smiles softly at this. "I know," she replies with confidence. She tilts her chin up to the Sheriff's building. "Why don't you go on in and talk to the Sheriff about any bounties?"

Arthur lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh as he rolls his shoulders back, frowning deeply as he gazes over the building with mild disgust and indifference— those feelings obviously held towards the lawmen.

"Sounds like a plan," he agrees reluctantly.

(Y/N) can't help but snicker faintly under her breath at his reaction, her attention shifting to the gunsmith. She glances along the road before making her way across in swift, confident strides, Arthur's eyes following the woman and lingering on her as she disappears into the store.

With a quiet grumble under his breath, Arthur turns to the building before him, Lance letting out a faint nicker of amusement.

-

Arthur opens the door leading into the Sheriff's office, the man's eyes scanning the room and lingering on the cold, iron bars of the cages. The building was small in size and a bit cramped truthfully, two large desks alongside one another near the entrance.

A deputy sits at a thin, small and wooden table looking bored, his feet propped up on the wooden table as he polishes his gun. The Sheriff himself sits at his desk, lazily slouched back in his seat and his feet propped up as well, the man seeming to not have a care in the world as he cleans under his nails with his thumb's fingernail.

Noticing Arthur, the Sheriff perks up a bit, a thoughtful look crossing his expression.

"Well... looky here," he calls to the deputy. "Maybe this is our man."

Arthur tenses at this as his eyes flick to the side, the man not replying.

"You a bounty hunter, mister?" the Deputy questions lightly, lowering his feet as he rises.

Arthur shrugs, keeping his expression neutral. "Maybe. It depends on if my partner wants us to be," he calmly replies.

He keeps his eyes trained on the Deputy apprehensively as he approaches, and he only relaxes when the deputy tucks his gun away.

The Sheriff lets out a faint scoff. "Well, I'm guessin' you ain't here to pass the day, turn yourself in, or discuss the finer points of county law," he sarcastically states, lowering his feet to the floor and sitting up. "Then I don't need to know much more than that..." He gives Arthur a pointed look. "Till I got a reason to," he adds in subtle warning.

Arthur huffs quietly with a slight nod, shifting his weight on his feet. "Alright."

The Sheriff nods back, rising with a deep inhale through his nose and glancing around the building.

"You smell that?" he questions Arthur, circling around his chair and approaching the window, sunlight shining through the dusty glass. "This here's a livestock town, mister. Attracts delinquents and reprobates like flies." He gives Arthur a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowed. "Now I'm not a feller to pass quick judgement, but I've been around long enough to know... you don't hire a saint to catch a sinner."

Arthur watches the Sheriff, his head tilting downward as a faint smirk crosses his lips, the man nodding.

"You bring me what I need, and I'll pay you well," the Sheriff continues, turning and stepping forward slowly towards Arthur. "And I won't ask no questions."

Arthur considers this a moment. "So... what is it you need?"

"Why don't you have a look at that poster on the wall over there?"

The Sheriff points to the wall near the Deputy, who was currently leaning against the support beam of the building near the jail cells. Arthur nods as he approaches the wall, frowning slightly as he reaches out and grabs the only current Wanted poster from it.

"He's a low down huckster," the Deputy tells Arthur, scoffing and pushing off the beam as he steps closer with a scowl. "He's been poisoning folks with his 'miracle cures' from here to Annesburg."

Arthur looks over the poster, the Sheriff sighing softly and lowering to lean his weight on his desk to take the pressure off his bad knee.

"Killed more than Landon Ricketts without even pulling a trigger," the Deputy continues, shaking his head scornfully. "Gets some kind of... sick satisfaction out of it."

"The feller over at the saloon says he thought he saw him by the gorge straight north of here," the Sheriff chimes in as he rises, rounding the desk as he eyes Arthur. "You think you and your partner can bring him in? The money's good." He rests his hands on the desk. "I need him alive though," he adds, pointing a firm finger at Arthur. "I wanna make sure the women he widowed get compensated before he swings."

Arthur looks over the Wanted poster once more with a thoughtful frown, slowly nodding as he folds the poster and tucks it away. "I'll see what I can do."

With that, Arthur turns and makes his way to the still partially opened door, the Sheriff seeming pleased.

"Well, good luck to you," the Sheriff says with approval.

Arthur pushes the door open fully, the sunlight momentarily blinding him as his eyes adjust to the change of lighting.

"And we need him alive! That's an important point!" the Sheriff calls one last time for emphasis.

Arthur lets out a deep, slightly annoyed breath at this, the man grumbling lightly as he pulls the Wanted poster out once more.

"Alive, I got it," Arthur calls back in a monotone to the man with a dismissive wave of his hand, unfolding the Wanted poster.

He sighs under his breath as he looks over the man's appearance, his eyes flicking upward as he hears footsteps approaching him. (Y/N) adjusts her satchel as she draws closer, the woman stepping up onto the wooden deck with a soft grunt.

"So! We got a bounty?" she asks cheerfully with a grin, peering down at the poster with interest.

Arthur softly exhales through his nose with mild amusement at her chipper behavior, not questioning it as he nods.

"Yeah. Bastard's been sellin' this 'miracle tonic' that's killin' folk. Left a lot of women widows," he replies with a small frown, shaking his head as he looks down at the man. "Sheriff says he was last seen north, near the gorge."

(Y/N) frowns as she hums softly in thought. "Oh. Dakota River? Yeah— that's really close, actually. Maybe ten minutes if we hurry. Probably hiding on one of the ledges, if I had to guess," she comments lightly, nodding as she approaches (H/N). "Well, sooner we catch this guy, the better."

Arthur folds the Wanted poster and tucks it away before mounting Lance, nodding his head as he turns the animal to face the road. "Alright, then. Lead the way."

-

The two set out, riding side by side through Valentine and along one of the few paths that branches out leading towards the Dakota River. (Y/N) is pleased she only has to view the map Hosea had given her once for clarification, the few, scarce moments she has to herself having been spent studying the map of the land in case she and Arthur were to ever get lost without it.

It was a short and uneventful journey to the rushing Dakota River full of idle chatter and comfortable silences between the two, the roar of the water loud nearby as the two slowed their horses from the casual canter to a quick trot.

The sun casts a beautiful warm glow on the land as it continues to crawl down the sky at a snail's pace, the river causing the temperature to cool slightly. The area itself was beautiful and serene, the cliffsides of the gorge granting shade and the grass luscious and alive with wildflowers and critters that were quick to flee in the presence of Lance and (H/N).

"Guess we should just... keep our eyes peeled?" (Y/N) suggests as they ride alongside the river together, her eyes scanning along the river's bank for any sign of someone having been there recently.

Arthur grunts softly in agreement as he looks along the ridges of the cliffs, the man guiding Lance ahead just a tad. (Y/N) takes the cue to follow, knowing he must be trying to scope out a good vantage point for them to see the entire area. The two ride up a slanted hill's slope, the terrain steady enough that their horses don't struggle thankfully.

The two soon come across a narrow bridge that drapes carefully along the expanse of the gorge itself, Arthur guiding Lance ahead of (Y/N) as she slows down a bit to grant them space, not wanting to spook their horses.

(H/N) nickers faintly as she's guided after Lance, the horse seeming skeptical of the bridge and uneasy, but trusting (Y/N) as she tentatively walks forward with a few soothing words from the woman. (Y/N) sighs softly as she looks around slowly and uneasily, her eyes landing on a faint pillar of white smoke.

"Arthur!" she calls, making his head tilt to the side instinctively.

He glances over his shoulder as he slows Lance to a stop, Lance letting out a snort as he impatiently shifts. (Y/N) gestures to the ledge along the gorge, the white smoke continuing to crawl upward to the sky— no doubt from a man-made fire that had been put out. Arthur softly grunts at the sight, looking ahead and back before huffing.

"I'll meet you," Arthur shouts over his shoulder as he nods his head, as he and Lance were nearly across the bridge— and with Lance's side, turning or backing up would be difficult.

"Alright!"

(H/N) softly whinnies with unease as she shifts her weight, hesitating as her ears pin back for a moment. However, she regains herself and slowly allows herself to back up a few steps, safely making it back onto the firm ground of the land. (Y/N) waits as she keeps her eyes on the spot the smoke was visible, Arthur and Lance joining her after a brief moment, Lance moving at a quick trot's pace.

The two ride down the rocky slope towards the gorge's water, ducks quacking as they take off at the sound of the horses. Arthur's eyes scan along the river before he spots a slanted incline to their left, the incline no doubt leading up to where they had seen the pillar of white smoke.

Together, they ride upward, (Y/N) slowing (H/N) and allowing Arthur to go ahead of her as the path begins to narrow out. They hug the cliffside to their right, the drop steep to their left and leading down to the rushing water of the Dakota River. Soon enough, they spot a man's horse, the campfire, and then the man himself: Benedict Allbright.

The roar of the waterfall nearby was loud in their ears as they slow their horses momentarily, Arthur looking back to (Y/N) and the two nodding to one another in signal both were ready for anything. He guides Lance forward as (Y/N) follows, Lance letting out a soft neigh. Arthur slows to a stop and dismounts Lance as (Y/N) does the same with (H/N), Benedict still not having noticed the two approaching as he seems to work on relighting the campfire.

"Are you Benedict Allbright?" Arthur gruffly calls.

This startles the man out of his skin almost, the man jumping with a choked gasp and abruptly rising to his feet. The man wore a suit with a top hat and a pair of glasses along his round nose, his jaw and upper lip covered in a trim and neat beard and his hair greying and his features older.

"N— No sir!" Benedict quickly disagrees, shaking his head.

(Y/N) steps forward to join Arthur's side, peering over the man. "Oh. Really? Was kinda hopin' you were... we were told that he would be up here, and you kinda look like him."

Benedict clears his throat, shifting his weight nervously as his eyes dart to the side. "No, not me, ma'am."

Arthur and (Y/N) give each other a sidelong glance, Arthur clearing his throat as he shifts a step forward.

"It's because..." Arthur feigns a weak cough, his hand reaching up as he lightly rubs his nose. "We wanna buy some medicine."

This seems to pique Benedict's interest, the man's features flickering with surprise.

"And... I heard... I heard good things," Arthur continues, making his voice sound weaker purposefully with a tinge of hopefulness. "We'll pay. In gold! If— If you can help us find him."

Benedict's eyes light up at the mention of gold, but he still seems a bit apprehensive, his mouth slightly agape.

"It's... just..."

Arthur clears his throat as he shuffles a step closer to (Y/N), his arm winding around her as his hand gently squeezes her shoulder. (Y/N) plays along, leaning into his side with a disheartened and saddened expression, the woman trying to calm her suddenly racing heart as she rests her hand on Arthur's chest intimately.

"See, I'm real sick..." Arthur admits to Benedict wearily, shaking his head. "I can't leave my darlin' wife behind all alone in this world. I gotta... I gotta be here for her. To keep... lovin' her, and to make sure she has the life she deserves," he speaks earnestly in a lowered and softened voice, his eyes flicking downward to the top of (Y/N)'s head.

(Y/N)'s face becomes warm, her insides feeling like mush. A flicker of what feels like hope sparks in her heart, and she finds herself believing the man, as foolish as it no doubt was. He was just acting. Right?

But why did it sound so... genuine?

(Y/N)'s head tilts downward to feign sadness and to hide her flustered expression, her fingers curling lightly around the fabric of Arthur's shirt. Arthur's thumb subconsciously rubs her shoulder in a tender motion, the man seeming distracted for a brief moment before he returns his gaze to Benedict, clearing his throat.

Benedict seems moved by Arthur's words and his body visibly relaxes, his expression now cheerfully as he looks from Arthur to (Y/N).

"Oh-ho! Well... if that's the case..." Benedict adjusts the collar of his opened blazer in a showman-like flare. "For a poor woman and her sick husband, I'd be happy to help!" he declares with a hearty chuckle. "I'm a healer, you know! A medical man. Finest medicine in the state!"

(Y/N) lets out a relieved and delighted laugh, her smile practiced and friendly. "Oh, thank you so much!"

She and Arthur watch as Benedict approaches his satchel on the ground near the campfire, the man lowering and fishing out a corked bottle with a colorful label on the front. (Y/N) gently extracts herself from Arthur's side, Arthur stepping forward as Benedict approaches with the 'medicine'.

Benedict lets out a jolly laugh as he holds the medicine out to Arthur, Arthur chuckling along as he takes it and looks over the bottle. Arthur's relieved and friendly smile drops as his laughter halts, the man smoothly tossing the bottle off the edge of the ridge and into the rushing river below.

This catches Benedict off guard, the man's eyes wide as he watches the bottle fall, his gaze snapping back to Arthur at the click of a pistol. (Y/N) and Arthur stand with their pistols aimed at the man, Benedict standing with a dumbfounded expression.

"Game's over, mister," Arthur declares as he walks around the unlit fire, (Y/N) remaining put to block the other side. "Put your hands up. We're takin' you in."

"T— Taking me in?!" Benedict repeats with disbelief, his arms slightly outstretched on either side of him. "Wh— What for?"

(Y/N) huffs softly as she steps forward. "That so-called medicine of yours has been killin' people. Sheriffs have a price on your head, and we're here to collect."

Arthur nods in agreement as he steps closer, Benedict stepping back with his eyes practically bulging from his head.

"O— Oh, come on, miss, that's crap!" he defends hastily. "I'm a healer!" he insists firmly. "I've got an aura! I speak to spirits! I— I'm a scientist!"

Arthur and (Y/N) exchange a doubtful glance as Arthur steps closer, his pistol now directly in Benedict's face.

"Sure," (Y/N) sarcastically agrees, shaking her head as she steps forward.

Benedict steps back, his eyes darting around anxiously. "Folks get angry for no good reason, this—" He exhales sharply, his hands raised as Arthur steps closer. "This... This is a mistake!" he insists.

Arthur sighs at this, leaning forward. "Keep your hands up, buddy."

He disarms Benedict, tossing the pistol down into the water below.

"They only want you for questioning," he continues with a small shrug, stepping back once more.

Benedict gulps softly, his expression slowly hardening. "I— I have to insist that this is a mistake!" he snaps angrily, leaning closer into Arthur's face.

"Don't be a fool," Arthur calmly replies, tilting his head towards (Y/N), who had her gun trained on Benedict.

Benedict's jaw clenches as the man shuffles back a nervous step, (Y/N) sharply gasping and Arthur's eyes widening as the man stumbles, having been too close to the edge. Arthur was swift to lower himself and snatch hold of the back of Benedict's collar, his other hand still gripping his pistol and pressed awkwardly to the cliff's edge to give him some stability. 

Arthur grunts as his muscles flex, the man using his non-dominant hand to hold up the entirety of Benedict's heavy weight as he balances on the cliff's edge. He struggles as Benedict flails in a panic while exclaiming, Arthur's face tightening as he starts to slowly lift the man with a growl of effort. (Y/N) holsters her pistol and dashes over to Arthur's other side, reaching down quickly and grabbing hold of Benedict's arm closest to her, the woman trying to ignore the height of the drop as she and Arthur hold the man up.

"I'm slipping! Shit!" Benedict shrieks with terror as he flails.

"Well, stop kickin' your damn feet, you idiot!" (Y/N) barks back through clenched teeth.

Together, her and Arthur slowly pull the man up, (Y/N) tugging Benedict back onto the cliffside edge at the same time Arthur firmly yanks his upper half up onto the ledge. Benedict scrambles a bit as the two manage to pull up him, (Y/N) panting softly and scooting away from the edge as she rises to her feet, Arthur breathing heavily and rising as well. He rests his hands on his knees before he shakes his left hand out, his wrist sore from the strain.

Benedict lays on the ground with wide, unblinking eyes, his chest heaving. He lets out a laugh of pure shock and disbelief, his form trembling with adrenaline as he rises to his feet, his eyes sparkling as he looks between (Y/N) and Arthur.

"Oh! Oh, you saved me!" Benedict happily exclaims, stumbling on his feet as he breathlessly laughs.

(Y/N) gives the man an angry, irritated stare as she pants softly, straightening up. "Come... on! Let's go," she hisses firmly in between breaths, motioning to the horses as she shakes her head. "Now."

Benedict's face falls slightly. "Y— You're taking me in?"

(Y/N)'s eye twitches, the woman reaching up to rub at it lightly as she exhales deeply.

"It's just for questioning," Arthur reminds the man with annoyance as he keeps his pistol focused on Benedict, walking around the campfire towards the man.

Benedict bounces along the campfire as well, avoiding Arthur. "Y— You both saved my life!" he emphasizes with disbelief, seeming shocked they'd still take him in.

(Y/N) positions herself so that Benedict couldn't try to make a run for it, the woman visibly annoyed as she watches the man.

"Allbright, come on," (Y/N) urges with exasperation. "You damn near almost fell off a cliff! We've had enough close-calls today to last us a lifetime today, and we don't need to have all this fuss!" She steps closer, the man tensing. "Let's go."

"I'll— I'll be better off jumping!" Benedict exclaims as he rushes towards the cliff's edge once more, causing (Y/N)'s eyes to widen as Arthur tenses.

"Ah!" Arthur snaps, lowering his pistol and lifting his hand in a soothing manner. "They expressly told me not to kill you."

Benedict scowls. "Oh! This— this is about you?" he demands incredulously with anger and sarcasm.

Arthur lets out a sharp, annoyed breath as he lowers his arm and looks around, his jaw clenching as he reins in his rising temper. (Y/N) shifts a small step closer in a subtle motion, Arthur's hand lifting once more to try to calm the man.

"Don't jump," Arthur orders sternly and curtly with stress, giving Benedict a hardened glare of warning.

"O— Or what?!" Benedict demands, his voice quivering as he shuffles closer to the cliff's edge. "Y— You can't shoot me!"

Arthur stomps forward, reaching for Benedict but hastily retreating back a step with his hands raised as Benedict nearly slips off the cliff while exclaiming dramatically for emphasis.

"This is ridiculous," (Y/N) exhales under her breath, shaking her head as she grimaces.

Arthur sighs deeply, holstering his pistol. He grinds his teeth, not speaking for a moment before lifting his hands slightly in a pacifying manner.

"Please," he grits out, his expression hardened with visible exasperation.

Benedict scoffs at this, his eyes darting between Arthur and (Y/N).

"I'll take my chances," he confidently replies.

Benedict turns, (Y/N) sharply inhaling and lunging forward as Arthur does the same.

"Shit, no—!" (Y/N) exclaims.

"Come here!" Arthur shouts.

"Bye, friends!" Benedict yells over his shoulder, hastily leaping off the edge with a scream.

Both were too late in their attempts to grab the man, (Y/N)'s hand snatching the air Benedict had been in just a second prior, Arthur's arm swiftly wrapping around her front and tugging her back gently as both recover their balances from being so close to the edge.

The two stare down at the river below as Benedict lands into the water with a loud splash, Arthur making sure (Y/N) was steady before slowly taking his arm back from around her. He lets out a deep, frustrated growl, lifting his fingers to his lips and sharply whistling for Lance, (Y/N) whistling for (H/N) as well.

"I really do not like him!" Arthur snarls under his breath, glaring at (Y/N) playfully. "You owe me a damn drink after this!"

(Y/N) lets out a baffled sound of amusement and protest as Lance trots over with a neigh, Arthur smoothly mounting without the horse even having to pause. (Y/N) rushes to (H/N) and climbs on as well, both spurring their horses into action as they chase after the man in the river below.

"Ah— I shouldn't have done that! Help me!" Benedict distantly shouts with panic and fear, his voice muffled by the sound of the rushing waters.

(H/N) and Lance race along the ledge leading down to the river's bank, (Y/N) keeping her eyes on the man in the water being swept away by the strong current.

"I am half-tempted to just let him be!" (Y/N) calls to Arthur over the sound of their horses galloping, shaking her head with an annoyed scowl.

"Help!" Benedict shrieks as he flails in the water.

Arthur's lips twitch into an amused smirk at her remark, the two guiding their horses to cross through the river as the path before them ends. They make it to the other side as the water from the river dampens their legs and boots, their horses continuing to push on in powerful and quick strides side by side.

"Swim to the edge!" Arthur barks at Benedict loudly. "Or—" He scoffs with irritation. "Grab onto something!"

Benedict continues his panicked flailing and splashing in the water, his form disappearing into the water a few times. He bursts from the surface, coughing and sputtering loudly.

"Allbright, kick your feet to keep your head out of the water!" (Y/N) shouts with exasperation, feeling as though they were dealing with John attempting to learn how to swim all over again. "And for Christ's sake, get to the river's bank!"

(Y/N) looks ahead, her expression becoming blank at the sight. Arthur looks forward as well, a deep, frustrated sigh leaving him.

"Look out for the rapids! Hold your breath!" he warns Benedict.

Benedict looks ahead and screams loudly, both Arthur and (Y/N) wincing as the man goes down the intense, rocky rapids. His form disappears multiple times beneath the water's surface and resurfaces at different angles, the rapids finally easing up and allowing the man to burst through with a loud gasp. Benedict screams and exclaims as he's swept further down the river, sputtering and coughing and his arms continuing to flail wildly.

Finally, the river starts to slow into a shallow and calm section of the river that extends further along the land, (Y/N) and Arthur spurring their horses ahead to meet the man.

"Help!" Benedict cries out pathetically as he flails and splashes in the shallow water, (Y/N) sighing deeply.

Arthur urges Lance into the river, the water lapping at Lance's knees as he prances ever so slightly. He takes out his lasso as (Y/N) waits on the bank with (H/N), the man hurling his lasso with practiced elegance and familiarity.

The lasso winds around Benedict's shoulders and chest, Arthur giving the rope a firm yank. Benedict cries out with surprise as he's dragged through the water, kicking and flailing lightly. Turning Lance, Arthur guides the horse out of the river and back towards (Y/N), dragging Benedict onto the shore behind him slowly.

Dismounting Lance, Arthur approaches the groaning and exhausted Benedict, turning the man over and smoothly binding the man's arms behind his back.

"Who made you God, friends?!" Benedict demands furiously as he pants softly, squirming. "Who made you judge?"

"No one. We're just the deliverers, friend," (Y/N) replies back in a monotone, shrugging her shoulders lightly with indifference.

Arthur exhales a soft, amused breath, the man grunting quietly as he shifts to bind Benedict's kicking feet together. "We're only in it for the money."

"That's even worse!" Benedict protests indignantly.

Arthur rises and secures his lasso onto his belt. "I'm sure it does seem that way," he cheerfully agrees.

Abruptly, Arthur delivers a sharp punch to the back of Benedict's head, knocking the man out cold. The man lowers and smoothly hoists Benedict's limp form onto his broad shoulder, carrying Benedict as if he weighed nothing as he approaches Lance.

"Damn!" (Y/N) exclaims with a burst of laughter, wincing with feigned sympathy as she watches Arthur. "Well, maybe one of his 'miracle tonics' will help with that headache he'll have when he wakes up," she comments lightly with sarcasm and humor.

Arthur's lip lifts in an amused smile at this, the man fondly shaking his head as he unceremoniously tosses Benedict's form over the back of his horse. Lance nickers softly and lets out a displeased rumble, his ears flicking back as he shifts.

"It's alright, boy," Arthur soothes with a hint of affection as he mounts up, Lance huffing loudly at this, but settling as Arthur strokes his neck a few times.

(Y/N) guides (H/N) over towards the two, (H/N) softly nickering as she cranes her head towards Benedict with curiosity, giving the man's head a few sniffs before snorting and shaking her head out. She softly neighs as shifts to stand beside Lance, leaning over as she gives his mane a short, playful nip. Lance gives a huff in response to this, snorting and shaking his own head out.

"Well. That was... eventful," (Y/N) comments lightheartedly, shaking her head as she glances up to the sky. "We should get back before it gets too dark. Don't want wolves to come out while we're dealin' with him."

Arthur nods in agreement. "Wolves would honestly be preferable than dealin' with him," he replies with dryness, earning a huff of agreement from the woman.

With that, the two spur their horses into a casual-paced gallop, the two riding alongside one another as they follow the dirt path leading back to Valentine. They cross through the river, Arthur glancing back a few times to ensure that Benedict didn't slip off the back of Lance and end up back in the river as they did so.

As they make their way up a slanted hill, Benedict starts to stir, the man letting out a pained groan.

"Oh, oh... sir! I think I may... be suffering from exposure," Benedict moans with pain.

Arthur looks upward with exasperation, reaching back without looking and giving Benedict's temple a firm slap with the back of his knuckles, the man falling unconscious once more.

"Suffer a little longer," Arthur tells the unconscious man, earning a bark of laughter from (Y/N).

They can see the tops of the buildings of Valentine peeking over the hill, the land slowly evening out and Valentine coming into view in the distance. As the two near, Benedict begins to stir once more, the man groaning and whining in pain.

"I— I seem to keep blacking out," Benedict slowly says, his voice a bit slurred and the man dazed. "Sir! Madame! I must warn you, my temperature is subnormal. I have medicine in my pocket, won't one of you—"

Arthur once again slaps the man, causing his body to go limp as he falls unconscious.

"Heh. You do seem to keep blacking out," Arthur muses lightly.

The two slow their horses as they near Valentine, not wanting to cause a fuss with the people by galloping through town. The two horses pant softly as they trot down the muddy road, a few people looking over at Benedict and whispering among themselves, obviously interested and nosey as to what was going on as their eyes follow the two. Some people begin to light lanterns outside as the sun sets in the distance, casting pink and deep purple hues along the sky.

Benedict stirs with a groan, his eyes flicking around and the man wincing as he struggles a bit. "Sir! Madame! This isn't necessary! I am a medical man! A healer! It's all just a big mistake!" he protests with a hint of panic, wincing. "Oh, I don't feel very well."

(Y/N) huffs softly and rolls her eyes. "Those folk you been sellin' your 'medicine' to didn't feel well, either. And you sold them poison, pretending it would help them," she bluntly points out in an icy voice, shaking her head. "Be quiet, Allbright."

Benedict scowls at her words. "Who made you judge?!"

"Told you before. We're doin' it for the money," Arthur replies calmly.

Benedict tries to shift, but was unable to, the pressure on his ribs making him grimace and groan loudly. "Oh, I don't feel very well at all! You— You're both bullies!" he cries out indignantly.

"Quit your moaning. We're here," (Y/N) dismisses the man, guiding (H/N) to the hitching post outside of the Sheriff's office.

She dismounts as Arthur guides Lance over and does the same, the man mindful enough not to kick Benedict as he dismounts— despite the fact part of him wanted to. He grabs hold of Benedict and hoists him onto his shoulder once more, Benedict letting out a wheeze of pain as he squirms lightly.

(Y/N) follows after Arthur as he makes his way to the door, and they could faintly hear the Sheriff inside.

"— he don't understand you, Moira, and that's the truth—"

(Y/N) and Arthur give each other a slightly confused look, (Y/N) stepping forward and abruptly shoving the door open. Arthur steps closer to the woman, the two spotting the Sheriff with an unfamiliar woman. The Sheriff and Moira jump apart from one another like shrapnel, Moira gasping loudly.

"Oh, my Lord!" the Sheriff exclaims with alarm, his eyes twice their usual size as the man stumbles to his feet. "I— I wasn't expecting you back so soon!" he speaks breathlessly as he spots Arthur, his eyes flicking from the man to (Y/N). "Y— You must be his partner he spoke of."

(Y/N) blinks at this and nods, the woman smiling slightly as she lets out a small laugh. "Uh— yeah..."

Her and Arthur exchange another look tinged with awkwardness, (Y/N)'s eyes flicking back to Moira as the woman fixes her disheveled dress and runs a hand through her messy hair, the woman's cheeks flushed red and her lips seeming to be swollen.

"Uh— Mrs. Calthorpe was, uh... was just leaving," the Sheriff stammers out nervously, clearing his throat to try to steady his voice as he wipes his thumb along his lower lip.

"Okay..." (Y/N) slowly replies with a forced smile, nodding politely to the woman.

Moira looks absolutely mortified, but forces a smile back as she puts her hat onto her head, her hands daintily clasping in front of her as she shifts her weight on her feet.

Arthur gruffly clears his throat. "So, uh... where you want him?" he questions bluntly.

The Sheriff sighs deeply, his shoulders deflating visibly as he motions with his hand. "The cell in the back."

Arthur nods at this as he makes his way towards the back of the building, (Y/N), the Sheriff, and Moira standing in a brief but painful silence. (Y/N) rocks her weight on her boots lightly, clearing her throat as her eyes dart around the room, Moira smoothing her dress out and the Sheriff adjusting his already-adjusted badge.

Arthur dumps Benedict onto the floor near the cell, Benedict squirming and letting out a sound of protest as he was turned over onto his stomach.

"There's been some terrible mistake!" Benedict protests, squinting due to the fact his glasses were lost in the river.

Arthur ignores him, reaching down and unsheathing his knife as he slices through the rope binding Benedict's feet together. (Y/N) glances over, ready to assist Arthur if he needed the help and grateful for the distraction. The Sheriff and Moira seemed thankful for it as well, the two watching Arthur with rapt interest.

"I never did it! Any of it!" Benedict exclaims.

"Thought the lady told you to be quiet outside, partner," Arthur muses with a tinge of warning to his voice, yanking Benedict to his feet.

Benedict stumbles as Arthur holds his biceps firmly, pushing him towards the cell.

"But I told—!"

"But nothing!" Arthur barks and cuts Benedict off. "Shut up," he demands with exasperation, yanking the cell door open. "And, uh... good luck!" He grins, shoving the man roughly inside. "It's been real fun!"

Arthur slams the cell door shut and locks the latch, Benedict stumbling and gripping the bars tightly as his knuckles turn white, his face a bright red.

"You ain't much of a man!" Benedict shouts as Arthur starts to stroll away. "If you ask folks for forgiveness, you remember this, partner!" he warns.

(Y/N) lightly rolls her eyes at this as the Sheriff starts to guide Moira to the back door, Arthur waving a dismissive hand.

"I've already forgotten it," Arthur casually replies to Benedict in an uncaring manner.

(Y/N) walks over and joins his side as they approach where the Sheriff stood with Moira at the back door, Moira sheepishly staring at the floor as the Sheriff straightens up to face them.

"Now, Sheriff... how much was you offering?" Arthur questions with a deep sigh, resting his hands on his belt's buckle.

The Sheriff perks up. "Uh—" He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a wad of bills. "Fifty dollars. Here."

(Y/N)'s expression falters a bit at this, Arthur reaching out and taking the money with a nod.

"Thank you," he tells the Sheriff.

"Oh— yes, uh... thank you," (Y/N) chimes in quietly with a nod, shifting lightly as she heads off towards the front door.

Arthur glances back at her with a hint of worry at her tone, the man looking to Moira and nodding his head respectfully. "Madame."

The Sheriff nods as he returns his focus to Moira. "Now please, remember what I told you..."

Arthur doesn't hear the rest, the man having stepped outside. He spots (Y/N) standing by their horses, her hand idly stroking Lance's neck and her eyes fixated on the ground as she lightly toes at a pebble beside her boot.

"Hey," Arthur softly gains her attention as he approaches her, holding $25 to the woman. "Your share."

(Y/N) sighs lightly with disappointment, taking the bills with a frown as she nods in thanks to the man. Unhitching her horse, she gently clasps the reins in one hand, Arthur doing the same with Lance as the two slowly make their way to the saloon with their horses in tow. He watches her from the corner of his eye, the man giving her a minute before he questions her demeanor. The woman sighs heavily.

"I'm... sorry, Arthur. I, uh... he... was more trouble than he was worth," (Y/N) quietly says after a moment of silence, shaking her head as her eyes avert down. "Wasn't exactly a good, relaxing time, was it? And we only got 25 dollars each out of it." She huffs. "It was a waste of time, more like."

Arthur observes her deflated exterior, tilting his head with a quiet, faint chuckle. "I wouldn't say that," he reassures with a small shrug. "It was... fun. Interesting, I suppose. I enjoyed it."

(Y/N) blinks at this, her features softening with a hint of relief and surprise. "Really?" she questions with mild skepticism. "You enjoyed this?" She gestures around for emphasis with a small frown, (H/N) softly nickering at the motion as she steadily walks beside the woman.

Arthur softly snorts under his breath, tying Lance's reins to the hitching post in front of the saloon as (Y/N) does the same with (H/N), the two lingering by the animals.

"Well... compared to everything else we went through today... yes, really," Arthur states after a moment, nodding his head as he gives (Y/N) a slightly amused glance. He looks up in thought, rubbing at his bearded jaw lightly. "Was actually kinda peaceful, in a strange way. I had a decent enough time."

(Y/N) exhales a soft laugh, nodding her head in agreement as she pats (H/N)'s neck gently. Thinking back on the long day the two had— from Swanson at the station, to dealing with the O'Driscolls and Arthur nearly being killed in both situations, funnily enough—this was... peaceful. And fun.

"That's... a fair point," she agrees hesitantly, clearing her throat and averting her gaze. "Still, I feel bad," she admits with a quiet sigh. She'd essentially promised the man a calmer time than the chaos of camp, only for them to have an even more chaotic moment with the damn bounty.

Arthur softly clicks his tongue as he stops near the steps of the saloon, turning to her as his hands rest on his belt. "Why? Stop frettin' over nothin'," he tells her with a slight shake of his head.

(Y/N) softly hums in response, shrugging her shoulder with a short nod. Noticing her still somewhat dejected expression, the man sighs deeply with exasperated fondness. His hand reaches out, his finger and thumb gently grasping her chin as he lifts her head slightly, the man tilting his head downward to meet her surprised gaze.

"Look, darlin'. 25 dollars or not, I had a decent enough time 'cause I was with you. Alright? The rest don't matter to me," Arthur speaks in a softened voice reserved only for her, the man holding her gaze to show he fully meant every word.

(Y/N) blinks slowly as she feels her face starting to become warm, her breath softly catching as Arthur's hand shifts from her chin to her cheek instead. She can hardly think straight as the pads of his fingers gently brush along the apple of her cheek, his eyes flicking along her features— as if he were committing her expression to memory.

"Now, quit with the poutin'," Arthur urges her firmly yet not unkindly, nodding as he smirks.

(Y/N) lets out a surprised, indignant noise as the man starts to pinch her cheek gently and playfully, her face feeling hot as she swats her hands at his arm lightly.

"Okay! Okay, I get it— I'll stop!" she insists, making him let out a low chuckle as he releases her cheek.

(Y/N) huffs at the man as her hand lightly rubs at her cheek, her skin feeling warm beneath her touch and her eyes averted to the side sheepishly. "Thanks, Arthur," she softly mumbles, feeling a bit flustered. "I... you know, feel the same. It was... nice, spending time with you."

Arthur feels his heart clench at her words and he softly exhales through his nose at the sight of her bashful expression, and part of him wanted to tease her further. But he decides against it, the man lightly clearing his throat and nodding as his own eyes avert away, a small and pleased smile on his lips.

"You know, you can get me a drink if you really feel bad," Arthur suggests with a hint of playful amusement as he motions with his head to the saloon. "C'mon. I'm starved."

(Y/N) nods in agreement before softly gasping, glancing back down the main road and to the darkening sky.

"Oh! Actually—!" she starts, causing Arthur to pause in his tracks and look back. "I actually have to... get... something real quick!" she tells the man with a sheepish grin. "I'll be over in a second, and I'll get you your drink," she assures with a playful grin, her cheeks still feeling a bit hot. "You go on in."

Arthur's brow lifts at her vagueness, but he slowly nods. "Okay..."

His eyes follow the woman closely as she steps onto the main path, (Y/N) giving him an innocent grin before she turns and makes her way off back in the direction of the Sheriff's office. Arthur lingers for a moment before softly scoffing to himself with fond amusement, shaking his head as he turns and enters the saloon.

The saloon was lively with the piano music played by the pianist, but there surprisingly weren't many people around. A few men sat at a poker table in the corner, others at the bar enjoying themselves with a handful of working girls around. Arthur could hear conversations occurring up the stairs, some people lingering on the stairs themselves as they converse with each other.

Arthur takes in the people with a wariness born from experience, the man slowly entering and keeping his posture relaxed despite the fact he was always alert and ready. The bartender looks up at the newcomer, his face visibly falling at the sight of Arthur.

"Hey— ah!" the bartender calls out warily, slowly wiping a glass with his rag. "No brawling this time, alright?"

Arthur lifts his hands slightly in a calming manner. "I'm on my best behavior. Got company," he assures in a light tone, nodding his head.

The bartender eyes him apprehensively for a brief moment, exhaling sharply through his nose as he nods reluctantly. "All right," he slowly says, his attention shifting back to polishing glasses— though he occasionally glances at Arthur.

Arthur sighs softly as he lowers his hands and glances around, his eyes landing on the barber tucked away in the back corner. The older man leaned against the pillar with a newspaper in his hands, his expression content as he reads. Hesitating for a moment as he seems to contemplate something, Arthur glances back over his shoulder before slowly making his way over, softly clearing his throat to gain the man's attention.

The barber's eyes shift upward, the man perking up. "Oh! Hello there, sir! Looking for a hair trim?" he questions cheerfully as he folds his newspaper, setting it aside on the vanity mirror in front of a wooden chair.

"Maybe," Arthur hesitantly replies, shrugging his shoulder. "Just a... small one. For my beard, and hair," he adds a bit awkwardly, clearing his throat as he shifts his weight on his feet.

The barber nods with a friendly smile. "All right then. Small trim, got it," he confirms. "Go ahead and take a seat, sir."

Arthur's eyes flick to the wooden armchair, seeming apprehensive. You'd think he was entering a gun duel rather than just getting his hair done. He exhales deeply as he steels himself, wanting to get this done and over with so he'd be ready for when (Y/N) came over. He lowers into the chair and rolls his shoulder, shifting and adjusting to get more comfortable.

He watches the barber like a hawk as the barber grabs his scissors, wiping them down to ensure they were good and clean before stepping closer to Arthur's side. His hand reaches out as he carefully angles Arthur's head to the side, Arthur's jaw clenched a bit as the barber works on trimming the length of his beard down.

It's silent for a few moments as the barber works quickly and efficiently with skill, curling tufts of Arthur's beard hair fluttering slowly to the floor.

"Forgive my saying so, but you don't seem the type to let yourself be groomed often," the barber comments, breaking the silence as he works his way around Arthur's beard.

Arthur looks at the barber in the vanity's somewhat dirtied mirror, the barber dusting Arthur's shirt off and tilting his head as he continues working.

"Guess I'm a bit curious," the barber continues, moving around Arthur to get to the other side of his beard.

Arthur clears his throat lightly, his eyes flicking downward. "Yeah, well..." he grumbles quietly, sighing. "Wanted to look... somewhat decent, I guess," he admits reluctantly, his face feeling warmer.

He wanted to look nice. For (Y/N). The thought made him feel both warm inside and embarrassed— it was an uncomfortable, yet not unpleasant, and unfamiliar sensation.

"Ahh, I see!" the barber muses with a knowing grin, his eyes glinting with friendliness. "Looking nice for a special someone, hmm?"

Arthur's shoulder tense at this as he lets out a quiet, incomprehensible grumble under his breath, the man shifting in the seat in nervous habit. The barber straightens up as he moves to stand behind Arthur, Arthur removing his hat to allow him access to his hair.

"No shame in that, partner!" the barber assures with a friendly laugh, grabbing his comb and running it through Arthur's hair a few times as he starts to measure. "Between you and me, some of the men around here could learn a thing or two from you! It's always good to look nice for your lady."

Arthur's eyes dart to the side, and the man frankly looked like he wanted to disappear into the chair he was in, his cheeks hot and his heart pounding at the thought of (Y/N) being his lady.

"Yeah..." he agrees quietly, deciding it was better to be vague and not protest or over-explain anything.

He wasn't even sure why he'd admitted to the fact he wanted to look nice. It was too personal. The vaguer he was with the folks in this town, the better. They'd be moving on soon enough, anyway.

The barber continues to work, skillfully and carefully trimming Arthur's hair just a fraction as the chatter and piano playing of the saloon fills the silence between the two. Arthur's grateful the barber seems to understand and respects that he doesn't talk much to strangers, the barber focused and finishing up in just a few more moments with a nod to himself.

"There we go," he declares cheerfully, using his rag to dust hair off of Arthur's shoulders and neck. "How's that lookin'? You like it?" he questions with interest, wanting the man's honest opinion.

Arthur's eyes flick to himself in the mirror as his jaw instinctively tightens, his gaze shifting over his features with a hint of uncertainty and an uncomfortableness with seeing himself. He rubs his hand over his bearded, trimmed jaw, his fingers twitching against the scar on his chin— one he'd earned in a reckless fight during his dumber teenage years trying to impress (Y/N). The hair there never grew quite right, and it was more obvious when his beard was shorter— an insecurity he never could shake.

He exhales deeply as he lowers his hand, his eyes flicking away from his reflection as he grimaces.

"I don't know," he says after a moment, shifting. "I guess, yeah."

Arthur glances back to the mirror, noticing the barber seemed a bit disheartened at the response and unsure— like the barber thought it was his fault Arthur didn't like how he looked. A stifled sigh leaves Arthur, the man managing a somewhat strained but polite and reassuring smile as he nods.

"Looks real nice, thank you," Arthur thanks with a bit more resolve and confidence, setting his beloved hat onto his head as he rises with a soft grunt.

The barber's features visibly brighten at this, the man seeming relieved as he sets his scissors aside. "Good!" he happily states, nodding as he steps aside for Arthur to step around the chair. "It'll be a dollar forty-five."

Arthur nods at this as he takes out two dollar bills, passing it to the barber with a nod for him to just keep the difference. "Thank you."

The barber smiles as he looks at the bills, tucking them away with a nod. "Thank you as well."

Arthur glances back over his shoulder just as (Y/N) enters the saloon, the woman glancing around as she hugs a medium-sized parcel to her chest gently. Arthur's expression noticeably softens into a faint smile at the sight of her, the barber's eyes flicking from the man to (Y/N).

"Ah, that must be her, huh?" he questions lightly with a nod. "Well, you have yourselves a nice night!"

Arthur clears his throat and nods with a small, sheepish frown, the man's eyes not leaving (Y/N) as he makes his way over to the woman. (Y/N) notices Arthur and perks up with a smile, the sight making Arthur's heart flutter in his chest as his eyes flick to the parcel she was holding.

Arthur nods to the parcel. "What's that?"

A somewhat mischievous smile flashes on (Y/N)'s face. "Nothing," she replies innocently and casually.

Arthur doesn't buy this for a second, his expression one of amusement and disbelief. "Uh-huh. Nothin', huh?" he drawls slowly, his tone doubtful.

(Y/N) nods with a cheerful grin. "Mhm!" She looks around as her smile lingers. "C'mon. Let's get some drinks and food. I'm starving!" she insists, the woman moving forward to approach the bar.

She's surprised by Arthur gently grasping her arm, and she looks back over her shoulder with a small, confused smile as she tilts her head.

"I got it," Arthur tells her softly, nodding his head to a few empty tables nearby. "You go on and grab us a table, hmm?"

(Y/N) blinks, a small frown forming on her face as she gestures to the bar with her free hand. "But— I owe you a—"

"Don't worry about it, darlin'. You'll get me next time," Arthur tells her fondly, his hand squeezing her bicep gently before he releases it and sighs softly. "What d'ya want?" he questions, resting his hands on his gun belt.

(Y/N) looks like she wants to protest, but she knew well enough to know that it would be pointless. She hums softly as she tilts her head, considering this for a moment.

"Surprise me," she declares with a nod.

Arthur huffs faintly at this. "All right."

(Y/N) smiles to herself as she watches Arthur turn and head off to the bar, the woman lingering for a moment before making her way towards a table. She glances around, noticing that the window to the saloon was already being repaired and nearly finished, the frame itself all fixed up and a curtain draped over the section the glass was to go in as a temporary cover until the glass was installed.

The saloon was actually quite nice, when there wasn't a drunken brawl going on. Who would've thought?

She sets the parcel down onto the wooden table, feeling a bit giddy and impatient to give it to the man. But she wanted to wait for them to be alone, first. She looks up as Arthur walks over, the man carrying a beer in each hand.

Arthur sets his beer down before smoothly popping the cap off of (Y/N)'s, the man setting it down close to her as she smiles in thanks. He lowers down into the chair across the small table from her, a deep, relaxed sigh leaving the man as he allows his frame to slowly lose its tension. He grabs his drink, downing a few swallows and savoring the flavor.

(Y/N) faintly smiles as she watches the man, feeling a bit happy at the sight of him seeming so at ease. Her eyes squint a bit as she stares at the man with a sudden intensity, studying his features as her smile falls to a thoughtful frown.

Arthur's brow lifts as he slowly lowers his beer, his eyes meeting hers as he tilts his head. "Yes...?"

(Y/N) tilts her head as well, subconsciously mirroring the man. "You... Did you trim your beard?" she questions curiously with interest, squinting further. "Your hair's a bit shorter too, isn't it?" Her brow furrows thoughtfully. "When did you— I'm not crazy, am I?"

Arthur blinks, the man letting out a surprised snort of laughter as he leans back in his seat. "Maybe just a little," he teases lightly, earning a blank glare from the woman— though her lips are twitching into a smile. "Got a trim done just now when you were gone," he explains with a chuckle, clearing his throat as he rubs the back of his neck.

"Ah," (Y/N) breathes out with a smile, nodding her head and seeming a bit surprised. "Well, you look nice. I'm glad you didn't cut your hair too short— I like it longer," she says in a lighthearted tone, resting her chin on her palm as she admires the man subtly.

Arthur feels a weight ease from his chest that he didn't even know was there, a sense of relief and pride filling him at the fact that not only she had noticed the change, but seemed to like it. He straightens up a bit, the man tilting his head at her words.

"Really, now," he mumbles thoughtfully, his hand subconsciously reaching back to feel his hair at the base of his neck, the man seeming lost in thought for a moment. "Thank you, darlin'."

(Y/N) smiles faintly at his reaction, the woman suddenly perks up. "Oh! I went ahead and took our horses to the stables and rented a room for the night," she tells him with a hint of excitement as she smiles. "Told the hotel manager to have some baths ready for us in a bit, too," she adds with a nod.

Arthur's features soften at her thoughtfulness. "You didn't have to do all that. I could've done it," he tells her with a small frown, his tone tinged with gratitude as he nods. "Thank you, sweetheart."

(Y/N)'s heart skips a beat, the woman averting her gaze to the parcel as her fingers gently fiddle with the thin string binding the brown paper together.

"Of course. I just... you know..." (Y/N) trails off sheepishly, clearing her throat softly. "We don't get a lot of... calm moments, I guess. I want to make sure each one we do get is relaxing as can be." She shakes her head, her expression sheepish and earnest as she looks up at the man. "I worry about you. You have a lot of stress put on you."

Arthur watches her closely, the man's chest feeling warm. It felt... nice, being worried over. But it also made him feel a sense of guilt. He didn't want to cause her any more stress than he knows she already has, but he also knows that it's pointless to try to convince her not to worry about him. It'd be like telling him to not worry about her. It wouldn't be possible.

"You work hard and got a lot of stress on you, too, you know," Arthur mentions in a light tone. "You do just as much—"

(Y/N) softly huffs at this, giving the man a pointed look to cut him off. "We both know Dutch puts more on you than anyone else, Arthur," she bluntly states, making the man's lips press together into a thin line. She sighs. "I just end up... tagging along with you, usually. Just so you don't have to do everything alone," she adds in a softer voice, shaking her head.

Arthur's eyes flick downward, the man taking in her words. "I..." He softly exhales. "I appreciate that," he says quietly, his fingers idly tapping the side of his beer bottle. "I appreciate you."

He shifts a bit in his seat, shrugging his shoulder as his gaze remains averted. "But I'm fine. Everyone's been tired and stressed lately. I ain't special," he assures dismissively, letting out a bitter chuckle.

"You are to—" (Y/N) cuts herself off and hesitates as she inhales, her chest tightening. She clears her throat, her finger lightly twisting the tied string around the parcel. "You are to me," she finishes after a moment, her voice quieted and her words earnest.

Arthur's caught off by her words, the man blinking rapidly as his ears become hot. Surely he was reading too much into it— she just meant it in a friendly manner, since they've known each other for so long. Right?

"Yeah, it's favoritism, I guess, or whatever," (Y/N) quickly mutters almost incomprehensibly under her breath with embarrassment, seeming to try to brush past the implications of her words. "But still." She looks up at the man with a sheepish grin, her fingers continuing to twitch and fiddle with the parcel's string. "I don't want you to carry every burden alone. You can always rely on me... you know that, right?"

Arthur's gaze meets hers for a lingering moment before he tilts his head down, the brim of his hat in his eyes. The corners of his lips slowly curl into a rugged and warmed smile, the man exhaling deeply through his nose.

He shifts his chair closer, his boot now lightly pressing to the side of (Y/N)'s as he adjusts, allowing his foot to remain there. His hand releases the beer bottle and reaches over, slowly lowering and resting on top of her own fidgeting one on the parcel to steady it.

(Y/N)'s eyes snap down to his hand, the warmth of his palm and the gentle pressure of his grip around it making her heart race like a galloping horse in her chest. Her eyes lift back up and meet his, the man smiling in a way that makes her insides feel like mush.

"Course I do," Arthur softly murmurs with a nod, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "And you can always rely on me, too. We're in this together." His thumb tenderly rubs along the back of her hand. "Don't forget that."

(Y/N) feels her lips pulling back in a bright smile as she nods. "Right."

She turns her hand beneath his over, Arthur's hand adjusting and their palms gently pressing to one another's. His fingers curl around her hand as his thumb slowly strokes the inside of her wrist, (Y/N)'s fingers grasping his hand in return.

The two gaze at one another for a moment, the lively piano music and chatter of the saloon seeming to fade into the background. However, the moment was gone as quick as it had come, (Y/N)'s eyes darting past Arthur as she notices the bartender approaching with two dishes of food.

Arthur tilts his head and follows her gaze, glancing back over his shoulder. Spotting the bartender, Arthur clears his throat softly and reluctantly removes his hand off of (Y/N)'s, the man adjusting in his seat and (Y/N) smiling sheepishly as the bartender stops at their table.

"Here you go," the bartender speaks in a light, friendly voice, though he does give Arthur a side-eyed glance.

Arthur only smiles in response with a nod as the bartender sets down their dishes, a lamb fry for Arthur, and a (Favorite Dish) for (Y/N), (Y/N)'s eyes lighting up.

"Thank you," Arthur politely says, shifting his hand out of the way as the bartender sets down a set of forks and spoons for the two to use as well.

"Thanks," (Y/N) chimes in with a nod and a smile.

The bartender looks between the two before he slowly relaxes, seeming to finally be content with believing neither were there to cause any trouble that time around.

"Enjoy," the bartender encourages as he steps away, turning and making his way back over to the bar to continue tending to the other patrons.

(Y/N) feels her stomach clench and growl softly at the sight of her favorite dish, the woman unable to stop smiling at the simple fact Arthur had remembered.

"You remembered," (Y/N) says fondly, looking up at Arthur with a grin. "Thanks." She lifts her beer to her lips, taking a few sips.

Arthur smiles faintly, seeming pleased with himself as he works on cutting the meat of the lamb off the bone using his fork and knife.

"Easy to remember when that was the only thing you'd eat when you were sick that one time," Arthur drawls in response with a hint of teasing, the man shifting his chair closer to the table, his boot still pressed to her own.

It might've been a long time now since she'd been sick with that awful fever in their early 20s, but he'd been the one who always made sure she had her favorite food and plenty of rest— with Hosea's help, of course, Dutch having constantly been busy with handling their funds and making sure they had enough. John, at the age of 12, was still new to their group and couldn't do much, but thankfully, Susan was around to watch after his rowdy self.

(Y/N) lets out a soft, amused laugh as she lowers her beer, swallowing the liquid down and giving Arthur a fond and delighted smile. Arthur finds himself mirroring her expression back at her, his eyes averting down to his food as the two start to dig into their hearty meals.

-

Time seems to go by in a blur as the two enjoy their dinner together, their meal full of lighthearted conversation and comfortable silences between the two. Their dishes were emptied and their bellies full, a couple empty beer bottles neatly aligned along the edge of the table. Neither had enough liquor to become tipsy or drunk, but enough that they both felt a bit looser, and their faces certainly felt warmer.

The sky above was a deep shade of blue, the glow of the moon bright and illuminating the town and the few people still lingering on the streets. The moonlight highlights the swirls of clouds overhead, the clouds crawling slowly with the breeze across the sky.

Most of the lanterns had been snuffed out as the town became still, its people resting. (Y/N) hugs the parcel to her chest gently as she and Arthur walk alongside one another, the night air feeling nice and cold against her cheeks as they make their way to the hotel. The hotel clerk welcomes the two in with a growing familiarity, the baths already prepared for the two and the room upstairs all clean and ready for them as well.

-

Freshly washed and dressed in the complimentary hotel night garments, (Y/N) makes her way down the hall to their room, the room they rented out the very same as the other night. She was actually glad, as it felt comfortable in the room and spacious— and a bit more familiar.

She grabs the handle of the room door and pushes the door open, spotting Arthur already inside and sitting on the bed, the man dressed in his own night wear and his hair still damp. He was focused on her pistol held in his hand, the man working on polishing it, his own guns already oiled and resting on the dresser with their gun belts. The parcel she'd gotten earlier was there as well, as she and Arthur had left their belongings up in the room before going to their baths.

"Hey," (Y/N) greets with pleasant surprise as she steps inside, running her fingers through her wet hair.

Arthur's eyes flick up as he wipes along the frame of the pistol, the man nodding with a faint smile. "Hey," he parrots, his gaze returning to the gun. "I owed you, remember? And I always pay my debts," he reminds with amusement, noticing her mild confusion at his actions.

"Ah," she acknowledges with a nod and a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "I would've helped you, silly." And she would have, despite the fact it was part of their deal when they had raced that morning.

"I know," Arthur replies lightly, his attention returning to the gun as he finishes off polishing it.

As the man looks up, he's caught off guard by the sight of (Y/N) standing directly in front of him, a wide grin on her face and the parcel held out towards him. He blinks at the sight as his brow furrows lightly, the man setting his rag aside and reaching out to take the parcel.

"What's this for?" he questions with confusion.

(Y/N)'s smile grows as she takes her pistol from Arthur, admiring the polishing job before walking it over to her gun belt and holstering the weapon.

"Open it," she calls to the man, making sure the gun belts and Arthur's satchel wouldn't fall off the dresser. "Got it for you earlier."

Arthur's brow furrows further, his eyes darting up to the woman. "For me?"

His expression is perplexed as he looks down at the parcel, his fingers gently crinkling the brown paper wrapping. He grabs the end of the string binding it together and gently tugs on it, the string's knot smoothly coming undone with a faint sound.

(Y/N) watches with anticipation as Arthur rips the brown paper off, his brows lifting with a hint of surprise at the contents. Inside was a shirt and pair of pants neatly folded to fit inside and flattened out, the shirt a standard collared overshirt with a deep, beautiful red color, the pants a casual set of everyday pants and a rich shade of black. There wasn't a single scuff or patch on the clothing, the material quality surprisingly good.

"Thought they'd look nice on you," (Y/N) comments with a smile, observing his reaction closely and eagerly. "And— well, neither of us have much clothing since we had to leave most of it behind in Blackwater. So I figured I'd get you a set," she continues, shifting her weight on her feet. "They didn't have anything for me, but that's fine. I'll ask one of the girls if they might have anything for me to wear, but I'm okay for now."

Arthur doesn't say anything for a moment, too taken by surprise to form words. He carefully pulls the brown paper off the clothing and sets it aside, the man noticing a weight to the folded-up shirt that was obviously more than just the fabric. His brow twitches lightly as he carefully unfolds the shirt, his features softening and eyes widening at the sight of a gorgeous Volcanic pistol hidden away inside as he sets the clothing aside.

The pistol was brand new with an ebony grip; the frame made of a blue steel that looked like the dark of night and the barrel a dark brown steel. The lever was blue steel as well, the sight and trigger brown steel. The metal was engraved with a style Arthur recognized called Art Nouveau, the engraving filled with pure gold, the beautiful bright color standing out against the darker metals.

But what caught Arthur's attention the most was the carving on the gun's grip. The carving was of a delicate and beautiful doe, his lips parting slightly with awe and his thumb delicately tracing along the carving.

"This is..." Arthur starts quietly, his voice a bit hoarse with emotion as he swallows thickly.

Too much. It was too much. He didn't feel like he did anything special to get these gifts, and he felt itchy— like he needed to get up right this second and barge into the shop at this late hour to find her something nice to return the gesture. Arthur gives her a thankful but uncertain look, his mouth opening as he softly inhales.

"Don't you say it's too much!" (Y/N) hastily cuts him off, shaking her head rapidly as her finger lifts firmly for emphasis. "Ah! And no, I don't want or need anything in return!" she adds quickly, as if reading the man's thoughts.

Which, she almost could, since she knew him so well.

"It's a gift. So there ain't nothing to return," (Y/N) speaks with a grin, recalling his own words earlier about the gift he'd given her.

Arthur's mouth closes as he lets out a stifled breath, a tinge of amusement filling him as he looks up at her.

"You like it?" she asks eagerly. "I put in the request for the engraving and carving before we left to get the bounty. Had to grab it before the Gunshop closed," she explains with a nod as she watches the man closely. "Thought it'd be a good replacement for that old cattleman of yours. It's getting a bit worn, isn't it?"

"I..." Arthur clears his throat as he looks down at the pistol, his thumb still idly tracing along the doe carving. "I do like it. It's a fine weapon." His jaw works slightly, the man looking up at her. "But you didn't have to spend all this money on me, (Y/N). I want you to have enough for yourself to enjoy."

He frowns with apprehension as he shakes his head, his eyes flicking over to the shirt and pants he'd set aside on the bed as well.

(Y/N) huffs softly as she smiles, obviously pleased he likes his gifts. "I do!" she assures with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And besides, who says I'm not enjoyin' myself spending it on you, hmm?" she questions rhetorically and playfully, though her words are earnest. "I'm glad you like it!"

Arthur lets out a small air of laughter. "More than like. I love it, darlin'," he gently replies, his tone full of warmth and deep affection for the woman. "Thank you. Really."

(Y/N) beams brightly with joy, relief and happiness evident on her face at the fact he liked the gifts. Arthur sets the pistol aside on the end table beside the bed, the man rising to stand before (Y/N) as she tilts her head back to look up at him with a hint of curiosity.

Her breath softly catches as Arthur steps closer, his arms reaching out in a slow and careful motion. He winds them around (Y/N)'s form with a gentleness that contrasts his powerful frame, his hands resting on her back and gently pulling her closer to press her against him in an embrace.

(Y/N) blinks owlishly, stunned for only a moment before snapping out of it. Before Arthur could even think of pulling away, her arms wrap around the man's middle, her fingers loosely grasping the fabric of his shirt at his back. Her cheek presses to his broad chest as she closes her eyes, shifting a small step closer and allowing herself to melt into him.

Arthur hardly breathes as he holds (Y/N) close, his hand tenderly caressing up and down her back in slow motions, his touch respectful and delicate. His other hand reaches up to rest on the back of her head, his chin dipping down as he presses his lips against the crown of her hair. The two stay like this for minute or so, basking in each other's presence and the intimacy of the gesture.

"We should... get some sleep," Arthur softly murmurs after a few more moments in a husky tone, his fingers idly stroking through her wet hair as he pulls back a fraction to gaze down at her.

(Y/N) reluctantly pulls her head back to look up at the man, her lips curled up in a lovely smile that makes his heart race. She nods her head once in agreement, their eyes lingering on one another's for a moment longer than necessary, as well as their touch.

-

The town is still outside as the pair rest in bed together, (Y/N) leaned comfortably into Arthur's side while reading her book and the man writing in his journal as usual. The fireplace crackles softly, the flames filling the room with a pleasant warmth

At the faint sound of Arthur's pencil gently scratching along the paper of his journal with his strokes, her eyes subconsciously flick over, the woman perking up as she slowly lowers her book. Her features soften with pleasant surprise at the sight of his drawing, the drawing of the two of them on Lance and (H/N) racing one another along the path to Valentine.

"Oh, wow..." (Y/N) breathes out softly, her eyes widened with awe and admiration. "I love your drawing," she praises earnestly as she clears her throat, her eyes flicking up to the man as she smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop."

Arthur watches her from the corner of his eye, the man feeling a bit bashful. He grunts softly under his breath at her words, the man hesitating for a moment before allowing his journal to tip her direction to grant her a better view of the drawing.

"You always say that," he mumbles, feeling pleased at her praise of his drawing. 

(Y/N)'s smile brightens as she lets out a soft chuckle. "And I always mean it," she replies happily, nodding as she tilts her head to lean against his arm to look over the drawing.

Arthur only lets out a grumble in response, though (Y/N) can tell her words mean a lot to him. She smiles as she views the drawing and its detailing, Arthur slowly turning the page back one to allow her to see the other drawings he'd done. She instantly recognizes Reverend at the poker table, and above that, Arthur had drawn the figure of the massive bear they had encountered that morning with Hosea, the detailing in its face chilling. Tucked on the other page near his beautiful writing was a drawing of Kieran tied to the tree, his head hung low.

(Y/N) tilts her head as she observes the drawings, her lips pursed slightly as she looks between them. Her brow gently furrows as she goes over every activity they went through that day, the woman unable to stop the baffled giggle that escapes her lips.

"You know... we live strange lives, Arthur Morgan," she says with amusement, glancing up at the man as he looks downward at her. "I think we did more today than many do in a week."

Arthur's brows furrow slightly as he seems to think over her words, the man's lips twitching into a small smile as he lets out a quiet chuckle.

"No kiddin'," he agrees in an amused drawl, the man gently shutting his journal as he shakes his head.

He reaches over and sets his journal on the end table beside his head, the man's hat residing on the table as well, along with his new pistol.

(Y/N) softly yawns as she bookmarks the page of her book, her eyes becoming heavy as she stretches. "Thank you. For letting me see your drawings," she tells the man softly with gratitude, knowing it's not a privilege he allows to just anyone.

"Course," Arthur acknowledges, his eyes subconsciously flicking to the journal.

Part of him wanted to show her the others he had done— but, to be honest, he was a bit worried she might find it strange how often he drew her. And he knew for a fact there was more than one detailed drawing of his favorite expressions she'd ever directed his way, including the one she'd made when he caressed her cheek earlier. He couldn't let her see those. He was sure he'd die from embarrassment.

Arthur softly clears his throat, the man giving her a faint smile as he takes her book from her to set it aside. (Y/N) watches him as he does so, and she makes a quick mental note to ask Hosea for another book the next time she sees him, as she was nearly done with this one.

Switching off the lantern on the end table, Arthur shifts as he starts to settle, the man glancing over to (Y/N) and noticing that she had relaxed on her side, her backside facing him. His lips press together in a small frown for a moment before he hesitantly shifts closer, the man lowering onto his own side.

He scoots closer to the woman in a slow and tentative motion, the man swallowing thickly as his chest gently presses to her back in a careful gesture, testing the waters. To his surprise, (Y/N)'s form shifts to press back into his almost instantly, her frame melting back into his own perfectly.

Arthur exhales deeply with relief as he begins to settle as well, shifting closer and allowing his body to meld against her own from behind. His chin rests on top of her head as he relaxes with a sigh, his hand adjusting the blanket over their forms carefully to ensure she is covered up. His arm then carefully drapes over her middle, his palm resting comfortably over her stomach, his touch light and mindful.

(Y/N) nestles back into him, her hand lowering to rest on top of his own, a faint smile on her peaceful features as she quickly drifts off. Arthur remains awake for a bit after he hears her breathing shift as she falls asleep, the steady beating of her heart through her back against his chest a comforting sensation. The man tilts his head as he presses his cheek to her hair, nuzzling into it for a brief moment before his eyes fall shut, the night continuing on as the couple gets their rest.

Chapter Text

A small herd of pronghorn stands near the dirt trail, many of their heads bent downward as they munch on the rich grass. The blades of grass glistened from the gentle drizzle that had graced the land early morning, the sky above covered in a thin layer of clouds and the sun rising in the distance beyond the hills of the Heartlands.

A few pronghorns break off from the larger group in favor of grazing on the lusher grass closer to the trail, a few snorts and grunts able to be heard from the herd itself as they shift around. The tittering of birds in a nearby tree was audible, the plains alive with life. The ear of a pronghorn twitches as it lifts its head, a bundle of grass held in its teeth as it pauses mid-chew.

Its ear perks fully as it listens apprehensively, its large, dark eyes flicking around. A beat of silence occurs before the whirring of an arrow cutting through the air could be heard, the arrow piercing through the neck of the pronghorn. Blades of grass fall from its mouth as it collapses dead onto its side in a swift motion, the pronghorn herd stirring up into a panicked frenzy.

Another arrow was sent out from a different location, striking the side of a pronghorn that had strayed too far from the group in its panic. The pronghorn lets out a wheeze as it trips and goes down in a tangled mess of limbs, dust from the path kicking up in a burst. The pronghorn herd bolts through the plains and over the hill, disappearing from sight as they leave behind their two fallen members.

-

The two pronghorn carcasses are strapped to the back of Lance and (H/N) as they make their way down the hidden path that leads to camp, some blood from the pronghorn's arrow wound dripping down along (H/N)'s side, staining the fur. Arthur wore the new clothing (Y/N) had gotten him, the first few buttons of his deep red shirt opened and his bandana tucked into the fabric.

Stopping their horses near the others for water, they dismount, (Y/N) gently unstrapping the pronghorn from (H/N) and frowning at the sight of the blood coating along her side. She lowers a bit, her brow furrowing as her eyes follow the path of the blood.

"Aw, hell," she groans, her hand stroking along (H/N)'s side gently. "Sorry, girl. I'll clean that up soon."

(H/N) gives a faint nicker in response gently, her ears twitching as she looks around at the other horses around them. Lance's ears prick forward as he snorts softly, lowly neighing at the other horses and shifting a small step closer to (H/N) as Arthur grabs the pronghorn off his rear and slides it onto his shoulder.

(Y/N) gasps softly as the pronghorn she was reaching for was lifted off (H/N), her eyes snapping to Arthur as the man settles it over his unoccupied shoulder. He adjusts it for a moment, the man not even reacting to the weight as he nods for her to walk, the man carrying both pronghorns on his shoulders.

"Arthur," she starts to protest, hastily following the man as he starts towards Simon's setup.

"I got it, darlin'," Arthur assures with a sidelong glance her way, the man slowing his pace to walk alongside her. "Don't want you getting dirty."

"You're wearing your new clothes. If anything, I should be the one carrying both of them," (Y/N) points out bluntly with apprehension, huffing softly.

Arthur glances over himself, the man snorting softly as he tilts his head. "Clothes are gonna get dirty eventually anyway. Besides, my shirt's red. Matches the blood," he brushes off with a small smirk, clearly not willing to budge and let her carry one of the pronghorns.

(Y/N) lightly rolls her eyes at this as her lips twitch up into a mildly amused smile, the woman keeping an eye on Arthur and ready to help the man if he needs it as they approach Simon's kitchen setup. Her cheeks are a bit warm at the sweet gesture, the woman sighing softly through her nose.

She hesitates as they pass near Dutch's tent, the woman perking up. "Oh, the camp share! From the O'Driscoll camp," she mentions, already starting towards the lockbox.

Arthur glances at her with a small nod, watching as she makes her way over to Dutch's tent to the lockbox. He continues on his way over to Simon's setup, the weight of the pronghorns over his shoulders uncomfortable and heavy, but not so much as to slow him down or hurt any.

He softly grunts as he dumps one of the pronghorns onto Simon's table, Simon jumping slightly where he sat tucked in the corner of his wagon reading a newspaper.

"Well, now!" Simon exclaims with pleasant surprise as he rises, carelessly tossing the paper aside as he approaches. "Looks like you've been busy."

"Could say that," Arthur replies with a small nod, plopping down the other pronghorn on the grass beside Simon's table.

"Thank you and (Y/N) both for this. These'll last us a good while," Simon speaks with approval and gratitude, the man looking over the pronghorn with a nod, his hand smoothing along the bloodied neck of the carcass.

Arthur hums softly, the man resting his hands on the buckle of his belt. "Just be sure you make somethin' good and edible with 'em," he drawls with a hint of sarcasm.

Simon huffs and lightly rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch into a faint smile. "Yeah, yeah. Go on and let me work," he dismisses with a wave of his hand, grabbing one of his sharpest knives and viewing over the pronghorn.

Arthur lifts his hands partially with a nod, the man turning as he strolls away, the sound of Simon hacking away at the pronghorn heard behind him. He spots (Y/N) looking over the ledger beside the lockbox on the barrel outside Dutch's tent, the man making his way to her.

(Y/N) doesn't look up as Arthur approaches, the woman holding the pen left at the book. "I wrote down that some crates of canned foods and ammo are to be bought with our share," she tells the man, knowing it was Arthur without even looking as she nods to herself. "Medicine... don't have the money for that just yet, but thankfully, I don't think we need it at the moment."

"Sounds good to me," Arthur gruffly replies with a nod, glancing over the list of those who have donated so far to the camp.

As (Y/N) closes the ledger with a pleased nod, a voice calls out to the two from inside Dutch's tent.

"Arthur! (Y/N)! That you back there?" Dutch questions, causing the two to instinctively straighten up.

"Sure is," (Y/N) answers, her and Arthur circling around Dutch's tent to the opened frontside.

Molly sat on Dutch's cot as she worked on sewing up one of Dutch's vests, Dutch sitting beside her with a book held comfortably and loosely on his lap, the man dressed sharp as ever with his hat decorating his head.

"Dutch, Molly," (Y/N) greets with a small smile, nodding as she leans against the pole of Dutch's tent.

"Dutch, Miss O'Shea," Arthur greets as well, the man leaning most of his weight on one leg as his hands rest comfortably on his belt.

Dutch closes his book and rises with a deep exhale, a smile on his face as he steps out of his tent. "Well, it feels like we are finally getting back on our feet!"

"Sure does," (Y/N) says with relief as she nods, pushing off the tent's pole and straightening up. "We got a decent amount of money from that O'Driscoll camp. Shame we couldn't get Colm, though."

"So I heard! Thank you both for giving the camp its share," Dutch fondly speaks with approval, his eyes flicking to the direction of the lockbox. "I heard you mention marking down supplies. Good. I'll make sure Miss Grimshaw gets on that right away and handles everything, so don't worry about it."

(Y/N) nods at this with a smile, tension visibly leaving her. It was uplifting to know the camp would get supplies in soon— Lord knows they need it, and it will definitely improve their spirits.

"You find a buyer for them bonds we stole?" Arthur questions as he shifts to stand at Dutch's side, the man watching Dutch curiously.

Dutch sighs softly, shaking his head, though his expression remains relaxed as his eyes scan along the edge of the clearing. "Not yet. But Hosea's working on it."

Arthur nods, the man quiet for a moment before speaking. "When we heading west?"

Dutch's eyes flick to Arthur beside him. "Soon," he assures, pausing. He frowns, shaking his head as he glances at the ground. "I don't know," he admits.

(Y/N) grimaces slightly, but she knew that was probably for the best. The west was the worst possible place they could be at this moment. Maybe indefinitely.

She softly clears her throat, the woman adjusting her stance as she notices Dutch's somewhat worried expression. "It'll... be okay," she encourages softly with a frown, nodding. "Things might've changed a bit, but at least the gang's still holding on strong together, despite everything."

"Changed..." Arthur quietly repeats, scoffing softly and bitterly and shaking his head. "Whole world has changed. They don't want folk like us no more." His jaw clenches. "We're being hunted."

Arthur leans against the center post of Dutch's tent, sighing heavily. Dutch listens to the two, the man stepping towards his chair residing outside of his tent and lowering to sit down, a contemplative look in his eye. (Y/N) couldn't find anything to retort— he was right. She knew the Pinkertons wouldn't give up— not unless they ran out of money. But a part of her hoped they might think them all dead up in the mountains.

"We are smarter than them," Dutch firmly states, turning his head to (Y/N) and Arthur. "Only the feeblest of men take jobs in the government," he mocks with a confident smirk.

This earns a bark of laughter from Arthur, (Y/N) exhaling with a small, amused roll of her eyes, the woman faintly smiling.

"If you say so," (Y/N) muses.

Molly softly giggles. "Trust Dutch, Miss (L/N)," she fondly says, not looking up from sewing. "You have to—"

"They got Micah!"

The frantic, desperate shout of Lenny causes (Y/N) and Arthur to instantly react and tense up, Dutch's head whipping to the entrance of the camp just as Lenny rides in.

"Dutch!" Lenny cries frantically, the boy nearly falling off his horse in his haste to dismount. "Arthur! (Y/N)!"

Dutch smoothly rises, (Y/N) and Arthur at his sides as they swiftly approach Lenny, the boy staggering towards them. He was wide-eyed and out of breath, his body trembling lightly and his movements jerked and jittery.

"What's going on?" Dutch questions, firm yet not unkind, the man's eyes full of concern as he watches the younger boy, Molly rising and slowly walking over with wide eyes.

"They— They got Micah!" Lenny exclaims in between panting breaths, gesturing back over his shoulder. "He— He's been arrested for murder!"

(Y/N) exhales a disgusted scoff, looking up with a flicker of annoyance. "Of course he has," she mutters under her breath.

Lenny shakes his head, swallowing thickly. "He was in Strawberry, and—"

Dutch lifts his hands in a calming motion. "It's okay, son. Breathe," he soothes, noticing Lenny was struggling to catch his breath.

Lenny blinks rapidly and nods his head, panting heavily and shakily as he braces himself with his hands on his knees. He takes a moment, the boy exhaling deeply and looking back up to the group.

"They nearly lynched me," Lenny shakily says, shaking his head as he breathes heavily. "They... They got Micah in the sheriff's in Strawberry. And there's talk of hanging him."

Arthur's eyes flick to (Y/N), the woman's own gaze shifting to meet his at the same moment. Both have to look away from each other, the corners of their mouths twitching and threatening to break out into smiles, (Y/N) nearly snickering as she covers it up by clearing her throat.

"Here's hoping," Arthur drawls nonchalantly with a shrug.

This causes a burst of laughter to leave (Y/N), Arthur giving her a wicked, amused side-smirk as she elbows his side in a playful, half-hearted scolding manner.

"Arthur! (Y/N)!" Dutch scolds with disapproval, turning to give them a firm stare.

"What?" Arthur questions innocently, scoffing softly as he shakes his head. "That fool brought this on himself! You know our feelings about him, Dutch."

(Y/N)'s laughter calms as she clears her throat, straightening up as her arms fold over her chest. "I agree. He's proving to be more trouble than he's worth, Dutch, you can't deny that," she declares in agreement. "That idiot's gonna bring unwanted attention to us with his foul-tempered actions."

Dutch clicks his tongue, frowning deeply. "You think I can't see past his bluster to the heart inside?" He gestures to his chest, Molly gently patting Lenny's arm in a reassuring manner as she turns and heads back to Dutch's tent. "He is a fine man."

(Y/N) has to refrain from rolling her eyes, as she feared they would go so far up her head that they would either roll out of her sockets or become stuck. Her eyebrow twitches as her lips purse, Arthur's jaw clenching at the unspoken request.

"No," Arthur growls lowly, shaking his head with a wave of his hand. "We ain't saving that fool!"

Dutch's expression hardens as he gestures out for emphasis. "I can't go!" he declares with exasperation. "My face will be all over West Elizabeth!".

"And ours won't?" (Y/N) snaps with more sharpness than she had intended due to frustration, the woman gesturing between her and Arthur.

Dutch seems momentarily caught off guard, his jaw ticking. Arthur's eyes dart to (Y/N), the man exhaling deeply as he shifts a subtle step closer to her while facing Dutch. (Y/N) lets out an irritated, disgruntled groan, the woman huffing as she steps towards the rattled Lenny.

Her features soften, the woman reaching out and resting her hand on his back. "Come on, kid. Come sit," she urges, her tone gentle and warm to help soothe his frayed nerves.

Lenny swallows thickly as he nods his head shakily, allowing her to guide him with her hand on his back to the nearby table. He lowers to sit down, his leg bouncing anxiously and his eyes fixated on the table. (Y/N) leans against the table, her form facing Dutch and Arthur and her arms folded over her chest

"I am asking," Dutch says after a moment, his voice softened and tinged with a hint of what seemed to be pleading. "He would do the same for either of you."

Hearty laughter leaves (Y/N), though there was no humor in it— anger and disbelief, but no genuine humor.

"No. He wouldn't," she bluntly replies, shaking her head.

(Y/N) sighs sharply as she pushes her weight off the table, stepping closer to Arthur's side. She gives the man a tired glance, her expression indicating while she didn't like this, she'd follow whatever he decided.

It was hard to refuse Dutch, especially with the urging stare he was giving the two. It was clear Dutch expected the two to listen to his request. Or was it a demand? For the moment, it was a request. But (Y/N) knew that he could very easily just demand it of them and they'd oblige. Either way, both her and Arthur knew there was no way out of this.

Arthur grumbles under his breath irritably. "Fine. Alright," he reluctantly agrees.

"Yeah. Fine," (Y/N) mumbles with a quiet huff, nodding.

Dutch notices their apprehension, and his eyes darken for a moment. His body is visibly tensed as he studies the two, his jaw working as he seems to contemplate something.

"You two—" he starts.

"You okay, Lenny?" Arthur questions over him, turning his attention to the shaken boy resting at the table.

Lenny looks up as Arthur approaches, nodding.

"Y— Yeah, course I'm okay," Lenny assures, even though it was obvious he was, in fact, not.

(Y/N) sighs quietly, shaking her head. "Lenny, it's fine to be shaken," she says calmly, her tone holding no judgement.

Dutch remains put for a brief moment as he watches the two with an unreadable stare, though he seems to shake himself out of it.

"You take that kid into town," he curtly tells the two, gesturing to Lenny as he starts back towards his tent. "Valentine, not Strawberry," he clarifies as he hesitates. "Get him drunk." He continues to his tent.

(Y/N) has to bite her tongue to keep from sighing once more. She feels like she's losing her oxygen by doing it so much within such a short time frame.

"And... no crazy business, you two," Dutch adds after a moment, nodding as he steps into his tent.

"Oh, sure, he tells us that, but Micah gets free rein..." (Y/N) mutters under her breath loud enough for Arthur to hear, the woman clearing her throat. "Understood, Dutch."

Dutch nods with approval, his eyes narrowing. "And you two get Micah out of that jail," he declares sternly and clearly.

With that, Dutch turns as he steps back towards his cot where Molly sat, the woman watching Dutch with uncertainty as he lowers to sit down. He grabs his book and he opens it, scowling down at the pages lightly as Molly tentatively begins to sew once more.

Arthur opens his mouth for a moment, a stifled sound leaving him. He frowns, (Y/N) noticing that his frame was tensed, his fist at his side clenched up. His eyes linger on Dutch before he shakes his head, exhaling deeply before turning to (Y/N).

"You... gonna come with?" he questions, his words a bit tight. He clears his throat, forcing himself to relax. "To Valentine," he adds, his tone softer.

(Y/N)'s eyes flick to Arthur, her tense features easing. "Yeah," she agrees with a small nod, clearing her throat. "I wanna stop and talk to Hosea for a second. Need a new book," she mentions, shifting her weight on her feet. She glances over to Lenny. "Sit tight for a second, okay?" she urges in a light tone.

Lenny looks up, the boy nodding his head with a half-hearted smile, his eyes returning to the table and his smile faltering.

"I'll make sure Lance and (H/N) are ready for us," Arthur speaks softly as he looks at the horses nearby, both currency engaged with munching on the grass a few feet away from the other horses.

(Y/N) nods at this, the woman giving him a grateful smile. "Okay. Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur pauses as he glances down at the man, the man softly clearing his throat as he nods slowly. "Of course."

(Y/N)'s eyes linger fondly on Arthur as the man turns and heads back towards the horses, the woman sighing softly as she heads further into the camp in search of Hosea. She glances around at the members around, each absorbed in their own tasks and a few missing from camp— no doubt out scoping for leads or hunting for the group.

Her eyes land on Hosea sitting at one of the wooden longtables, the man's newspaper folded neatly on the table beside his untouched cup of coffee. She hesitates as she spots Abigail sitting beside him, her expression worried and uncertain as she speaks, Hosea listening intently while nodding thoughtfully.

"— I'm frightened, Hosea. Real frightened."

(Y/N)'s features soften as she faintly hears Abigail's murmured, raw words, her hand gently gripping the satchel of her bag. She hesitates for another brief moment before slowly approaching, Abigail's words becoming clearer.

"— feels like my whole life's been one long... bad situation," Abigail mumbles wearily, shaking her head as her features tighten, her dark blue eyes flicking up to Hosea. "I'm a mother," she emphasizes. "I'm afraid. For the first time in my life. I am."

Abigail's head turns to the side as she hears the faint crunching of grass beneath someone's boots, the woman tensing and her attention shifting to (Y/N). She exhales deeply with a hint of relief as her hardened gaze relaxes, her lips curving into a small smile.

"(Y/N)," she greets softly, Hosea perking up as his eyes flick to the approaching woman.

"Hey," (Y/N) greets with a small smile, the woman clearing her throat lightly. She hesitates, unsure if her input would be welcomed, but wanting to offer it— to reassure Abigail— in any way she could. "You know... being afraid is... natural, Abigail," she speaks gently and softly, her voice lowered for her. "Honestly, I'd think you a fool if you weren't. And we all know you ain't one. Not like John, anyway." Her words are a playful attempt to ease the furrow of Abigail's brow.

It works for a moment, Abigail letting out a faint snort and rolling her eyes lightly as Hosea smiles with amusement, shaking his head.

Abigail's smile slowly falters, the woman shakily exhaling. "Wh— What are we gonna do?" she questions as her voice trembles, her eyes flicking between Hosea and (Y/N), desperate for answers. "I— Is Dutch, I... I mean..." She hesitates, wringing her hands on her lap. "He's always found a way, but lately, I..."

She doesn't continue, the woman biting her lower lip tightly as she looks between the two with uncertainty.

"We know, dear," Hosea soothes softly, sighing deeply. "It seems we don't have a choice but to ride this train to the end of the line."

His words cause an odd, sinking feeling to stir in (Y/N)'s stomach, her lips tugging into a frown and her expression pinching ever so slightly. Abigail's shoulders slump a fraction, her head hanging and her eyes focused on the table as she takes in his words.

"And if I were you... think of the boy and make plans," Hosea continues firmly with a nod.

(Y/N) nods rapidly in eager and determined agreement with this, Hosea's head whipping to her and his eyes slightly narrowed as he gives her a firm look, causing her to instinctively tense— as if she were a young girl being scolded again.

"You too, (Y/N)," Hosea states in a tone that indicated it was not up for debate, shaking his head. "You and Arthur both."

(Y/N) blinks owlishly, tilting her head as she softly stammers, "What?"

Hosea sighs softly through his nose. "We both know that no matter what happens, you and Arthur will take care of each other. But it's best if you two have a plan as well."

The urgency and resolve in Hosea's voice causes (Y/N)'s chest to tighten as her insides twist, and she's glad that she didn't eat much at breakfast, or she'd definitely feel more ill than she did at the moment if she did.

She doesn't know what to say, her throat feeling closed off, her head slowly nodding at Hosea's words to show that she hears him and knows. Hosea's features relax as he nods in return, a flicker of weary relief in his eyes as he returns his gaze to Abigail.

Abigail sighs and shakes her head, her hands balling into fists on her lap. "At least Arthur won't be so..." She gestures with her hands and exhales with a hint of frustration. "About it. John, he... I just wish John was..." her voice wobbles as she takes a breath. "I care about him." She blinks rapidly, trying to prevent the tears gathering in her eyes from falling as she turns her head away. "Damn fool that he is."

(Y/N) watches the woman with sympathy, wishing she could do more to help ease the pain in Abigail's heart. "Of course you do, Abigail."

Hosea sighs quietly as he reaches over, resting his hand over Abigail's and giving it a comforting pat. "Stay calm," he urges gently. "Jack needs you calm."

Abigail's eyes lift to Hosea's as she takes in his words, her pain-filled, twisted expression slowly softening. She takes in a long breath and exhales deeply and shakily, her eyes narrowing as they fill with a familiar, fierce determination. With a nod, the woman rises and smoothes her dress out, giving Hosea a grateful smile.

She turns as she makes her way back towards her tent, where Jack was currently engrossed with drawing in the dirt with a stick, (Y/N) watching and feeling a sense of relief that Abigail seemed to feel a bit better now.

Though, she couldn't truly say the same for herself at the moment. Having a plan in case things go wrong doesn't feel right. It makes her feel a sense of unease, a whisper in the back of her mind telling her that it was doubting Dutch unfairly— that the man always pulled them through no matter what. But another voice insisted Hosea was never wrong, and that she should be questioning things more.

A plan of their own would be doubting Dutch. And yet, she can't find it in herself to brush off Hosea's concerns— she can't find it in herself to fully trust and believe Dutch will get them through this time around. And the thought fills her with a sense of guilt and overwhelming dread.

(Y/N) clears her throat and lightly shakes her head to clear her thoughts, the woman turning to Hosea and approaching the wooden table.

"My dear girl, how are you doing?" Hosea greets affectionately, the man straightening up. "I, uh... didn't mean to spook you before. But... I just..." He exhales deeply. "I worry. And it'd make me feel a lot better knowing you and Arthur were... prepared. For anything."

"I understand," (Y/N) assures quietly, nodding her head. Her lips curve into a smile as she adjusts her satchel, nodding. "I'm doing good," she replies as she lowers to sit across the table in front of the man, sighing softly with contentment. "And yourself? How's your cough?"

"Ah, don't worry about me. Cough's almost gone and I feel strong as an ox," Hosea reassures with a nod, clearing his throat softly before taking a slow sip of his coffee. "I wanted to thank you and Arthur for heading out to find that drunkard Reverend. I'm sorry he gave you so much trouble," he tells the woman with gratitude, lowering the cup after a moment.

(Y/N) softly huffs, recalling the incident with Orville. "It's..." She shrugs her shoulder. "Well, it's done now. I just hope he gets his act together sooner rather than later," she replies with a hint of concern, her eyes flicking around in search of the man.

Orville was sitting at his sleeping roll, staring down at his Bible with a contemplative, almost pained expression. He seemed better, though the bags under his eyes were heavy, his skin still a bit pale and his hair disarrayed.

"As do I," Hosea agrees in a quiet voice, causing her eyes to return to the man. "So, what can I do for you?"

(Y/N) shifts slightly as she rests her satchel on her thighs, the satchel leaning against her stomach. "I was hoping you might have another book for me," she says with a tilt of her head, fetching the book she was currently reading. "I'm almost done with this one and I like it a lot." She lifts it for emphasis, a clean rag flatly tucked in between the pages she was on.

Hosea's eyes crinkle as he grins. "I knew you would," he muses as he nods, looking over the book before sighing softly. "I don't have anything right now since all my books got left in Blackwater, but I'll be sure to head to town and pick some more up for you. Looks like you could use a bookmark as well," he tells her thoughtfully.

"Oh, you don't have to do that for me!" (Y/N) hastily replies, touched but not wanting the older man to go through such trouble for her.

"I want to," Hosea assures with a soft chuckle, reaching out to set his hand over her own on the table in a fatherly manner. "Let this old man do something nice, huh?"

(Y/N) exhales a quiet huff as she smiles, knowing that there was no talking the man out of this. "Okay, okay," she breathes with fond, mock-exasperation. "Thanks, Hosea."

"Of course, my dear girl." Hosea's hand gently squeezes her own before he withdraws it, the man grabbing his newspaper as he unfolds it. "You heading out with Arthur again soon?" he asks curiously with a knowing glance, though his eyes return to his newspaper as he smiles faintly to himself.

(Y/N) nods, tucking the book back into her satchel. "Yeah—"

"(Y/N)!" a cheerful, enthusiastic and feminine voice calls, causing the woman to glance back.

She spots Karen waving eagerly, Mary-beth and Tilly sitting on the ground with a pile of laundry at their sides, wide, tin buckets filled with soapy water in front of them. Mary-beth and Tilly wave as well with smiles, (Y/N) blinking rapidly as her features soften with surprise.

"Oh—" She looks back at Hosea.

Hosea lets out a quiet, fond chuckle, nodding towards the ladies. "Go on. I'm not the only one who enjoys your presence," he urges with amusement, flicking his newspaper gently to straighten it. "We can talk more later."

(Y/N)'s nods at this with a faint grin, the woman rising from the bench. "Alright. See you later, Hosea."

"Of course," Hosea calls as she walks away, the man returning to his newspaper and enjoying his morning coffee with a gentle smile on his face.

(Y/N) adjusts her satchel's strap along her front as she makes her way over to the ladies' area, Mary-beth and Tilly rising to their feet.

"Hey! We were thinkin' you might have some time to spend with us today," Mary-beth eagerly speaks, a delighted smile gracing her elegant features.

"Yeah!" Karen heartily agrees with excitement, nodding her head.

Tilly chuckles softly at their enthusiasm, her lips curved up and her brown eyes glinting with joy. "We're gonna be doing the laundry. Exciting, I know," she informs with a hint of playful sarcasm, motioning to the laundry and the tin buckets of water. "What d'ya say?"

(Y/N) was pleasantly surprised by the offer and by their obvious anticipation, the woman perking up. "Oh! Well, I—"

"You ready to get goin'?" Arthur's voice unintentionally cuts off her response as he strolls over, the man rolling his shoulder gently and giving a nod to the three women as he smiles faintly. "Mornin', ladies."

"Morning, Arthur," Tilly greets.

"Good morning, Arthur," Mary-beth chimes.

Karen, however, frowns as she realizes what the man had asked (Y/N), the woman huffing.

"Aw, don't tell me you just got back and now you're already heading out again! Arthur always has you to himself!" Karen basically whines dramatically, holding her hands together in a pleading manner and leaning towards (Y/N) with pursed, pouty lips and big eyes. "Come on, (Y/N)! It's our turn!"

She turns to Mary-beth and Tilly.

"Right ladies?" she questions.

Arthur's brow furrows lightly and he appears baffled, as well as a bit flustered and caught off guard by Karen's mention of him always having (Y/N) to himself, (Y/N) blinking owlishly as her eyes flick to Mary-beth and Tilly.

Mary-beth and Tilly exchange a wide-eyed glance, Karen giving them an expectant stare with her arms folded over her chest.

"It... It would be nice if you stuck around," Mary-beth was the first to reply, her voice soft and a bit sheepish as she offers (Y/N) an apologetic smile, the sentiment earnest.

Tilly nods in agreement. "It's always a pleasure getting to spend time with you," she agrees, her dark, doe eyes flicking to Arthur as she chuckles quietly. "Sorry, Arthur."

Arthur grunts softly at this as he rubs the back of his neck, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth and the man staring at one of the wagons as if it were the most interesting thing. A small part of him was bristling with the urge to defend himself and protest, to say he didn't always have her to himself and that he wanted her to go with him, but another part knew that they were right, and it would be a bit odd if he did. Too obvious of his wants. His need for her presence.

(Y/N) lets out a sheepish, weak chuckle, the woman shifting her weight on her feet. "Well... I'm outnumbered, here." She glances at Arthur with an apologetic grin. "You'll be okay going alone? You won't get into trouble?" she questions with concern, her tone indicating she was fully ready to go with him if he'd ask.

Arthur looks down at her as his hand lowers from the back of his neck, the man exhaling a soft chuckle of defeat. He knew it would be good for her to have some time for herself with the ladies, as much as he selfishly wanted to keep her with him.

"I'll be on my best behavior, darlin'," he replies earnestly with a hint of amusement, nodding his head and sighing deeply. "Besides, you should... probably clean up (H/N) anyway 'fore her coat stains from the blood," he reminds, tilting his head towards the horses.

(Y/N) hesitates as she takes in his words, slowly nodding in agreement as she frowns. "I... do have to clean up (H/N)," she agrees with a tinge of reluctance, her features softening into a smile. "Okay."

This earns a chorus of cheers of excitement and delight from the three women behind her, the sound causing her to jump with surprise as Karen gives her an enthusiastic side hug.

"Aw, don't you worry, Arthur, we're not takin' her to war or anything," Karen reassures with amusement, a teasing grin on her face as she squeezes (Y/N)'s shoulders. "Though, dealing with Grimshaw is like war in itself..."

Arthur snorts softly at this as his brow quirks slightly, a faint smirk on his face.

"Oh, hush before she hears you," (Y/N) laughs softly, nudging Karen off her and shaking her head in a fond, scolding manner. "I swear, that woman's got the ears of a damn rabbit." She turns back to Arthur. "I'll walk with you."

Arthur's expression softens as he nods, the man shifting to the side and tilting his head towards the horses. The two start towards the horses, Arthur's hand hesitantly lifting from his side and slowly resting on between (Y/N)'s shoulder blades, his touch gentle and light.

Mary-beth coos under her breath at the two as she hides a wide grin behind her hand, Tilly smiling fondly and Karen rolling her eyes dramatically, though she has a faint grin on her face as well. She turns and pretends to gag as (Y/N) and Arthur walk alongside one another towards the horses, (Y/N) giving the man a few glances from the corner of her eye.

"You two have fun. But... maybe without the barfighting," (Y/N) cheerfully and playfully teases as they near Lance, earning a snort from the man.

"Sure thing," Arthur dryly replies with amusement in his eyes, the man reluctantly removing his hand off her back to grip his saddle, his boot sliding into the stirrup and hoisting himself up onto Lance.

"You comin'?" the voice of Lenny calls, making the two look over.

Lenny was already on his own horse, Maggie, a gorgeous light palomino mustang with a long mane, near the path leading out, the boy looking jumpy and still partially in shock as he shifts a bit restlessly on Maggie's saddle.

"Yeah," Arthur replies with a nod, the man returning his focus to (Y/N) as his features and voice softens, "See you in a bit, darlin'."

(Y/N) nods at this, her hand reaching out and gently stroking the side of Lance's neck, earning a faint nicker from the animal. "See you."

Arthur's eyes flick to Lenny as (Y/N) shifts back a small step to give his horse room to walk, the woman tilting her head with a flicker of confusion in her gaze as Arthur lingers. The man turns his head back so that he could look down at the woman with a beckoning tilt of his jaw, (Y/N) stepping closer instinctively with a questioning expression.

Wordlessly, Arthur lifts his hand to his hat, the man removing it. He lowers it down and sets it directly on top of (Y/N)'s head as she lets out a soft, surprised sound, the hat tilting forward due to being a bit too big and the brim covering her eyes.

Her hands reach up to lift the brim hastily as her face becomes hot, the woman blinking rapidly and looking upward with wide, surprised eyes. She couldn't question Arthur, the man already nearing Lenny and giving the younger boy a nod for Lenny to lead.

(Y/N) watches the two heading out on their horses with a flustered, baffled expression, her eyes meeting Arthur's as the man glances back over his shoulder at her. His lips curl into a smirk as his hand reaches up to ruffle out his hair, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners and glinting with fondness and amusement. This causes her heart to stutter in her chest as she swallows thickly, Arthur turning his head to face forward once more.

(H/N) seems confused and apprehensive as she steps forward with a nicker, her head turning and her ears perked forward as she watches Lance trot further down the path leading out. She paws at the ground a bit restlessly and lets out a whinny as she turns fully to face the direction leading out, (Y/N) shaking herself from her stunned state. She reaches out and gently grips the reins of (H/N) to ensure she doesn't try to bolt or follow after Lance and Arthur, softly shushing the animal and soothing her as she strokes her neck.

"I know, girl. It's okay," (Y/N) gently murmurs, stroking (H/N)'s mane tenderly as the animal huffs softly. "Our fellas will be back soon. I promise."

(H/N) snorts at this in what seems to be protest, but she does seem to relax at (Y/N)'s gentle tone and touch, the horse allowing (Y/N) to lead her over to the waterbucket beside the bales of hay that resided next to a caravan. She ties her reins to the wooden post next to the bales of hay, the woman grabbing a nearby bucket of water and setting it beside (H/N)'s leg. She works on unbuckling her saddle as Tilly and Mary-beth approach, both carrying over bundles of sleeping rolls under her arms.

Tilly lays them out underneath the cover of the caravan so they'd be in the shade, Karen across the camp working on fetching them water in the two buckets they had been using and some more soap over near Simon's setup.

Mary-beth lowers to her knees, working on organizing the clothes into piles. Her eyes briefly flick to (Y/N), the woman doing a double take at the sight of Arthur's hat on her head. She blinks with owlish eyes and elbows Tilly gently, causing the woman to look up from where she was smoothing out the sleeping roll, her eyes following Mary-beth's gaze to (Y/N). Tilly's lips twitch upward into a knowing smile, the woman shaking her head fondly as she returns to her task. Mary-beth clears her throat, the woman exhaling with a beaming smile.

"So, uh, what were you talking to Hosea about earlier when Karen called you?" Mary-beth questions lightly in a conversational manner as she tries to keep casual, watching as (Y/N) hoists the heavy-looking saddle over the wooden post she had tied (H/N)'s reins to. "I saw Abigail talking to him before you went over. She looked real serious."

(Y/N) perks up, the woman running her hand over her saddle before sliding her satchel off her shoulders. "Ah— she's fine," she smoothly brushes off, not wanting to air out Abigail's business as she clears her throat. "I was just asking Hosea for a new book. I'm almost done with the one I have, and it's a hell of a fun way to pass time. Beats twiddling my thumbs or over-polishing my gear," she explains, setting her satchel on the saddle to get it out of her way.

"A book?" Mary-beth's entire face lights up as she gasps. "Oh! I've got one you can borrow!"

Before (Y/N) can blink, Mary-beth is gone, the woman hastily rummaging through her belongings by their caravan before picking a book with a grin. She turns as she rushes back with a spring in her step, a giddy giggle leaving her as she eagerly offers the book to (Y/N).

"Here!" she chimes happily.

Tilly snorts softly where she sat, smiling fondly as she adjusts to get more comfortable on the sleeping rolls.

(Y/N) can't help but laugh at how excited Mary-beth had become over this, the woman reaching out to take the book carefully. "Let me guess... a romance?" she questions with amusement, looking over the beautiful brown leather cover with admiration.

Mary-beth nods with a proud smile, her cheeks flushed. "But of course," she playfully replies.

(Y/N) hums softly with amusement, the woman nodding as she reaches over and carefully tucks the book into her satchel resting on the wooden post. "Thank you, Mary-beth. I'll be sure to take care of it," she assures with gratitude.

Mary-beth beams happily. "I know you will."

Mary-beth lowers to sit down beside Tilly as Karen approaches with the two buckets, the woman carrying them with no trouble by their handles. She sets them down in front of the sleeping rolls, letting out a dramatic 'Phew!' as she straightens up and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand.

Karen steps over the bucket and onto the sleeping rolls before lowering to sit beside Mary-beth, Mary-beth and Tilly already working on grabbing at some clothes to wash as they prepare their scrubbers. Karen, however, seems less than inclined to do the same, the woman leaning back on her hands as she looks around camp leisurely.

Her bright eyes flick to (Y/N) as the sound of water gently sloshing gains her attention, Karen watching as (Y/N) gently scrubs (H/N)'s side with the soaked, soapy rag.

Karen's eyes instantly zero in on the familiar hat on top of (Y/N)'s head, the woman's lips curving up. "Ooh, you're wearing Arthur's hat, ain't ya?" she coos teasingly.

(Y/N)'s head whips to the woman as she looks up from cleaning (H/N), a wince crossing her features as she nearly pulls something in her neck. "Huh?"

Mary-beth clicks her tongue, reaching over and smacking Karen's shoulder gently. "Karen!" she hisses, her hand returning to the clothing as she continues to scrub the fabric.

"What? It's just an observation. I didn't think he let anyone wear it but himself," Karen innocently replies with a shrug, the smirk on her face indicating she knew full well there was more to her words than that.

"It's kinda sweet," Tilly comments out loud, her eyes focused on the shirt she was rinsing off.

Mary-beth huffs, but she can't help but join in, the woman looking at Tilly. "Kinda? More than 'kinda'! It's so..." She lets out a loud, dreamy sigh, her cheeks flushed pink and her smile wide. "You know?"

(Y/N) clears her throat, her cheeks suddenly feeling unbearably warm. She turns her head away as she distracts herself with wiping (H/N)'s side, her heart racing in her chest as she huffs.

"I'm sure it was only so he wouldn't lose it while he and Lenny get drunk," (Y/N) dismisses nonchalantly with a wave of her hand, the woman nearly flinging the rag accidentally with the motion and hastily correcting her grip.

Karen's expression falls to a doubtful one. "Uh-huh. Sure," she agrees sarcastically, huffing. "Is that really all you think it is?"

Mary-beth gives Karen a chiding look. "Oh, come on now, stop teasing her," she scolds gently, her tone holding no real heat.

"Yes. Please," (Y/N) agrees in a monotone, her hand stroking along (H/N)'s side to soothe both the horse and herself as she works.

Karen clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "Come on, (Y/N)! When a feller gives you his hat, it means he's interested in—"

"What're y'all talking about?"

Karen and the others look up at the voice of Abigail, the woman's dress sleeves rolled up and the woman obviously here to help, just as she promised (Y/N). (Y/N) looks over and gives Abigail a tight-lipped, friendly smile, the woman shaking her head.

"Nothing—" (Y/N) starts.

"The fact that (Y/N) and Arthur have been making goo-goo eyes to each other for weeks and now he's given her his hat to wear," Karen interrupts bluntly, clearly holding back a snicker at the look on (Y/N)'s face.

Abigail's eyebrows gently furrow. "His..." Her eyes flick to (Y/N) and light up, the woman's lips curving up into a grin. "Oh, my! Look at you!" she coos playfully with delight, laughing softly.

(Y/N) groans loudly, her free hand rubbing at her forehead. Abigail continues to chuckle to herself, the woman stepping over to the sleeping rolls and lowering to sit down beside Karen.

"I just hope Arthur isn't half as dumb as John is and treats you right!" Abigail muses with a smile.

"Not you, too, Abigail!" (Y/N) groans, the woman straightening up and turning to the women. "We're not even a... a couple!" she protests with a hint of defensiveness and embarrassment. "You ladies are reading way too much into this. He just... gave me his hat to keep the sun out of my eyes! To keep it safe while he's gone!"

The words sound half-assed even to her, her eyes averting to the side and her cheeks warm. But she can blame that on the sun. Even if the hat kept it off her cheeks.

"Golly," Karen groans with exasperation, shaking her head. "Good luck, Arthur," she mutters softly under her breath sympathetically.

Mary-beth fidgets in an antsy manner, the woman seeming to try to hold back from unintentionally teasing (Y/N) but unable to help chiming in.

"Oh, (Y/N)!" she suddenly exclaims, shifting to face the woman more. "You should just see the way that man looks at you when you aren't watching!"

(Y/N)'s gaze shifts to Mary-beth, her brow lightly furrowing and a hint of interest in her eyes. "Huh?"

Tilly lets out a soft laugh, the woman grinning ear to ear as she focuses on wringing out a shirt. "Man looks at you like you're one of them goddesses from Mary-beth's stories," she informs matter-of-factly in a light tone, shaking the shirt out.

(Y/N) blinks owlishly at this, the words causing butterflies to stir in her stomach. She was too old for that kind of shit. Wasn't she? Maybe not. Her chest feels tight and warm in a good way, her heart pounding in her ears.

"What?" (Y/N) questions, shaking her head with disbelief.

Mary-beth eagerly nods her head, her eyes sparkling. "His gaze is always so full of yearning and pure admiration, with a passion inside that's just aching to come out," she tells (Y/N) in a gushing, delighted voice. "Oh, it's so sweet and romantic."

(Y/N) clears her throat and shifts her weight on her feet, the woman folding her arms over her chest as she leans her weight gently against (H/N)'s side. "Good lord..."

"Trust us, (Y/N), he's been wanting you for a while," Tilly reassures, nodding. "Even when I was little I could tell there was something there between you two!"

"Tilly," (Y/N) huffs, reaching up to lightly rub at her brow as she shakes her head.

Karen lifts her hand, gesturing to the woman. "Every time someone even mentions your name his entire face lights up. It's a bit pathetic," she declares, snickering softly. "Just kiddin'. About it being pathetic. Well, mostly." She shakes her head. "But the man is gone for you, (Y/N). You have to have noticed."

Abigail grabs hold of an undershirt, the woman grinning as she focuses on dipping it into the bucket. "Well, we can't rush these things, ladies," she says gently and fondly. "She'll figure it out on her own."

(Y/N)'s hand lifts to adjust Arthur's hat over her head. "Ain't nothing to figure out," she states firmly, nodding. "Arthur and I are just..."

She trails off, the woman blinking. Just...?

What were they?

Friends? Yes. But it was more. A friend is someone you just enjoy a casual drink with, but Arthur is someone she trusts with her life. Someone she finds herself thinking of every minute of the day almost. Someone she looks forward to seeing every morning, who she couldn't imagine not being in her life. Someone that makes her heart race in a way that it hasn't since she was just a young, naive girl, before meeting him, Hosea and Dutch.

Someone she was very much in love with.

As the thought enters her mind, loud and clear, her expression instantly tightens as her jaw clenches, her eyes flicking to the side. A faint nicker from (H/N) causes her to reach out and stroke her neck, the horse craning her head to look back at (Y/N) with perked ears, the horse seeming to sense her emotions and rumbling lightly to soothe her frayed nerves.

The silence drags on as Karen's shit-eating, wicked grin grows, Tilly and Abigail both biting back smiles as they focus on scrubbing clothes and Mary-beth watching (Y/N) with bated breath.

"Just...?" Karen urges with a tilt of her head, giving (Y/N) a raised brow look.

(Y/N) softly clears her throat, fumbling for a response. "Just... hush!" she hisses, though there's no venom to her remark, the woman abruptly turning away as she grumbles under her breath.

Her response earns laughter from the four women, the four all cooing and playfully teasing (Y/N) at once over each other. (Y/N) groans loudly as she tilts the brim of Arthur's hat down over her eyes a bit, though the corners of her lips twitch into a small, amused and pleased smile as she thinks over what they have told her.

A part of her always knew she felt some sort of way for Arthur. But actually, truly acknowledging it was... a bit overwhelming. And she could only hope she wouldn't become a flustered mess around the man the next time she saw him. She didn't want to make things strange between them. She'd have to be careful.

Movement to her left gains her attention, her (E/C) eyes flicking over. She blinks rapidly with surprise as she sees Sadie making her way over with slow, almost tentative steps, the ladies sitting on the sleeping rolls near (Y/N) quieting as they also notice her.

(Y/N) gives the group a quick look, urging them silently to act normal. Karen clears her throat as she sits up, the woman finally starting to help out the three with laundry as the four all focus on the clothing.

"Morning, Mrs. Adler," (Y/N) greets once Sadie was close enough with a smile, nodding her head.

Sadie slows for a moment, her expression uncertain as she swallows and nods in return, her features visibly exhausted.

"Hey, Sadie."

"Sadie."

"Morning.

Karen, Tilly and Mary-beth greet in unison, Abigail looking up and giving Sadie a warm, welcoming smile.

"Hey," Abigail greets softly, shifting her weight on her knees and settling. "I'm glad you joined us. It's nice havin' more people to talk to."

Mary-beth perks up, nodding in agreement. "Oh! Yes," she eagerly agrees, wanting Sadie to feel welcomed. "And we've got (Y/N) here, too! A rare treat," she adds.

(Y/N) snorts and lightly rolls her eyes, rubbing the rag along (H/N). "Oh, come on, I ain't gone that often."

Karen audibly scoffs. "More often than not. Lucky bastard," she replies bluntly, her words playful as she gives her a mock glare.

(Y/N) lets out a bark of laughter. "Mhm, 'cause getting shot at on a daily basis and dealin' with assholes is lucky," she sarcastically states, giving Karen a raised brown glance over her shoulder.

Karen shrugs. "Beats gettin' yelled at by Grimshaw," she declares as her eyes subconsciously flick around, no doubt searching for the woman.

(Y/N) considers this, humming softly as she returns her focus to (H/N). "You've got me there," she agrees after a moment, her tone amused.

Sadie watches the interaction, the corner of her lip twitching into the faintest of smiles. (Y/N) notices from the corner of her eye, the woman turning to face Sadie as she tilts her head to (H/N) with a smile.

"Wanna help me clean (H/N)? She's real sweet," (Y/N) offers as she strokes (H/N)'s mane gently. "Well. Disregardin' that she tried to bite Arthur's thumb off..." she mentions under her breath, shrugging and waving a dismissive hand. "But she's an angel if I'm here! Ain't you, girl?"

(H/N)'s ear twitches, the horse letting out a soft neigh as she turns her head to peer back at (Y/N) and Sadie curiously. (Y/N) chuckles softly as she reaches over, taking out a sugarcube from her satchel and feeding it to the animal, affectionately patting her neck as the horse gently nibbles the treat out of her palm.

Sadie's hands fiddle in front of her slowly for a moment, the woman clearing her throat before slowly nodding her head. "Okay," she quietly agrees, her voice a bit raspy—no doubt from crying so much.

Sadie approaches hesitantly, pausing and taking a rag offered by Tilly with a small, appreciative nod, Tilly wordlessly smiling. She steps closer and lowers to wet the rag in the bucket of soapy water by (Y/N)'s boot, the woman straightening up. (Y/N) focuses on her own task, not wanting Sadie to feel pressured or like a spectacle, Sadie making her way to (H/N)'s other side and gently running the rag along her flank.

Abigail's features soften as she and (Y/N) glance to one another with a nod, both knowing this was a big step for Sadie— spending time with them rather than isolated. Returning to their tasks, a comfortable silence falls over the group, (Y/N) silently pondering what Lenny and Arthur might be up to at the moment and smiling to herself, hoping he was having as good of a time as she was.

-

Arthur sighs deeply as he leans his forearms on the bar, the saloon surprisingly packed for the time of day it was. He felt a bit annoyed, as he'd been hoping it would've been quieter, but the noise and bustle of the saloon seemed to be helping to distract Lenny.

"Just... one or two," Lenny hesitantly says as he joins Arthur's side, resting his arms on the bar as well. "Right, Arthur?"

Arthur nods his head. "Of course. Just a drink. No big drama." He glances at the bartender. "Can we get a couple of beers, please?"

The bartender looks up from wiping a glass, his face falling visibly at the sight of Arthur. He sighs deeply, but he nods his head, the man grumbling lightly under his breath.

"Hey, now, thought we moved past this... indifference towards me," Arthur calls with a hint of amusement, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

The bartender huffs softly, lowering down and grabbing two beers from behind the counter. "I still don't know about you. Or your woman."

Arthur clicks his tongue. "I was defendin' myself!" he protests lightly.

The bartender gives him an annoyed stare, but doesn't retort, the man stepping closer as he sets the two beers in front of Arthur and Lenny. He pops the lids open for the two, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck in a stressed manner as he glances around the full saloon.

Arthur pulls out a coin, tossing it onto the bar. "Here. Have one for yourself," he tells the bartender.

This seems to uplift the bartender's mood a small bit, the man eyeing Arthur warily before his features slowly soften.

"Thank you," he says after a moment with appreciation, taking the coin and nodding as he grabs an extra beer for himself.

Lenny grabs the opened beer set in front of him, the man taking a long, slow sip of the copper-toned liquid.

"Micah seemed to know a lot of people," Lenny mentions, lowering his drink as he exhales.

Arthur grunts softly at this, shaking his head.

"That was the problem," Lenny continues.

Arthur's eyes shift to the boy. "How do you mean?"

Lenny pauses for a brief moment, Arthur lifting his drink to his lips and swallowing down a few gulps

"I mean, I done seen a lot of crazy, crazy stuff," Lenny starts, the boy shaking his head as he frowns deeply. "But Micah—"

"I seen a lot of crazy, crazy stuff!" a man, obviously drunk, interrupts, his voice mocking.

Arthur's eyes narrow, but he doesn't give the man to his right a glance, his attention still on Lenny as he lowers his drink.

"Will you shut up?" Arthur questions with exasperation and irritation.

The man seems to find this amusing, his eyes lighting up. "Will you shut up?" he mimics.

"Be quiet, buddy," was all Arthur replies, his tone low and dangerous as he gives the man a side-long glare.

A raspy laugh leaves the stranger as he shifts on his feet, smacking a hand on the bar.

"They're dullards!" he laughs to himself, exhaling deeply with amusement as he grins. "My Lord... you men is dull."

The man continues to laugh, Arthur's jaw ticking. Lenny scoffs softly under his breath, lightly nudging his elbow into Arthur's arm to get his attention.

"Leave this fool alone," Lenny dismisses, his voice quiet and indifferent.

"Leave the fool alone!" the man parrots once more. "People been leaving me alone for the last ten years. I'm bored with being left alone."

Arthur's teeth grit together, his hand curling into a fist on the bar's counter and his expression visibly annoyed. His eyes flick to the bartender, who was watching from the corner of his eye with apprehension, though he's distracted by a patron calling him over.

He could very easily just punch the man and drag him out to be done with him. Or even threaten him into leaving them alone— though, he's not sure how effective that'll be on this drunken fool. But a voice reminds him that he'd told (Y/N) he'd be on his best behavior, and he had also assured the bartender he wouldn't cause any trouble.

A slow, deep and calming breath leaves Arthur, the man setting his drink down and flashing the drunk man a casual, easy-going smile.

"Listen, buddy," Arthur starts as he shifts his frame to face the drunk man, his hand reaching out and patting his shoulder. "You're a charming fellow. One of the best."

He looks back at Lenny with a tilt of his head, Lenny shrugging a shoulder with raised-brow, mildly confused look as he gives a short nod.

Arthur lets out a quiet chuckle, continuing. "But me and the kid here, we're trying to talk business, so, could you..." He tilts his head for emphasis, "possibly leave us alone?" He raises his hands in a calming manner. "No offense intended."

Shifting his weight on his feet, Arthur waits for the man's response, the man frowning deeply with furrowed brows as he blinks slowly.

"Ain't no pleasing some folk," the man practically whines, huffing softly with a shake of his head.

Arthur exhales with relief as the man pushes off the bar, heeding his words to leave them alone.

"W— Was just... trying to be friendly..." he slurs as he stumbles away.

Lenny watches the man with surprise, his gaze shifting to Arthur as he gives him an approving smile. Arthur softly scoffs as he rests his arms on the bar once more, Lenny adjusting to do the same.

"Let's go on and finish our drink," Arthur encourages.

"Yeah," Lenny agrees with a nod.

Arthur lifts his beer towards Lenny, Lenny's grin growing and the boy chuckling as he and Arthur clink beer bottles together, both downing the liquid.

-

One drink quickly became many.

The two clink shot glasses as they sit on the bench near the window, and it was visibly much darker outside, the two men having been there all day.

-

The two now lay back comfortably on the saloon's stairs, both leaning back as they down their beers.

-

Sitting together at a table near the window, they shoot back another shot, multiple shot glasses scattered clumsily on their table.

"Ah..." Arthur exhales as he lowers his shot glass, slamming it down onto the table,

He blinks slowly as he looks around the saloon, his vision a bit disoriented and his body feeling light as a feather.

-

Arthur lets out a groan as he leans his arm against the piano, the man letting out a cackle of delight and gently hitting his hand on the piano as he observes the man playing an upbeat tune.

"That's great, partner!" he compliments happily.

This earns a smile from the man as he continues to play, clearly finding Arthur's attitude amusing but appreciating the sentiment all the same.

Arthur grabs his beer from the piano and chugs the liquid, swaying on his feet and looking to his side, expecting Lenny to be there. To his absolute shock, he isn't.

"Lenny?" Arthur questions as he blinks rapidly, looking around with wide-eyed concern. "Lenny, where are ya?!"

He staggers a bit as he walks back further into the saloon, looking around.

"Lenny?" he calls, extending the syllables of the man's name.

The world beneath his feet felt as if it were moving as he stumbled, his head jerking side to side as his eyes scan the people around him for Lenny.

"Lenny!" Arthur barks. "Lenny, where are you?!"

Arthur drops his empty beer bottle as he steps onto the first step leading upstairs, groaning and feeling absolutely dizzy as he grabs the railing for support. He makes his way up, his eyes darting around restlessly.

"You know which way my friend went?" he demands a random man on the stairs.

The man lets out a soft snort, observing Arthur with amusement. "I can't say, I'm afraid."

Arthur clicks his tongue with a dramatic, dismissive wave of his hand, staggering up the steps and onto the second floor.

"Lenny, my boy, where are ya?!" he calls loudly over the music, swaying. "Lenny!!"

He makes his way around the railing, the man lighting up as he spots Lenny, the boy downing a shot glass and leaning heavily on the rail.

"What're you doin', kid?" Arthur questions, his tone light and almost playful as he approaches.

"Hello, Arthur!" Lenny greets in a sing-song.

Lenny straightens up and he lifts the shot glass to the top of his head, the man's arms extended and his lips parted in concentration as he balances it.

"You know what? I don't know—" Lenny slurs, turning his head to look at Arthur and seeming to forget about the shot glass.

The motion causes the shot glass to slip off his head, Lenny exclaiming as he and Arthur both fumble to try to catch it. Neither do, of course, both too drunk to have quick reflexes, and the glass falling to the first floor, both wincing as it shatters loudly.

Lenny and Arthur both let out wheezes of pure delight and amusement, Arthur lifting an apologetic hand to the shot glass below as Lenny doubles over, his laughing increasing.

-

Fresh beers in hand, the two chug the drinks in sync, their heads thrown back.

-

Arthur heartily laughs as Lenny performs a strange dance to the music playing below, Lenny beaming ear to ear. Arthur hits his hand on the railing, exhaling deeply as his eyes shine with pure joy, Lenny wheezing as he straightens up to lean his arms on the railing beside Arthur's.

"Why ain't you never married?" Lenny suddenly asks with a serious expression, though his eyes were dazed, his voice higher pitched and words a bit slurred.

Arthur's laughter ceases as he seems to consider Lenny's words thoughtfully, his shoulders sagging and his expression resembling that of a kicked puppy.

"Only want (Y/N) to have me," Arthur whimpers out, his lips turned down in a small pout and his eyes softened with both longing and sadness.

Lenny sways on his feet as he frowns, patting Arthur's back in a clumsy manner.

-

A few moments later, Lenny is nearly shrieking with laughter, watching as Arthur hops as high as he can multiple times.

-

"That's the thing," Arthur speaks seriously, leaning his weight on the railing. "You see, 'cause it—"

He glances to his side, blinking slowly as he realizes Lenny was, once again, gone.

"Lenny?" he questions as he straightens up, his eyes wide. "Lenny!"

"Get away from me!" a voice downstairs urges sternly.

The sound of glass shattering occurs as Arthur nearly throws himself over the railing to look downstairs, Lenny bouncing and dodging a couple of strangers with a delighted grin on his face as he wields a broken beer bottle as a weapon.

"Slippery little shit, isn't he?!" one of the men grumble irritably, dodging back as Lenny swings the beer bottle at him in a sloppy manner.

Lenny cackles as he smoothly hops onto the bar, towering over the man as he swings the beer bottle at them, not allowing either of the men too close, the boy also trying to kick at them. The bartender watches with disbelief and mild amusement, sighing heavily.

"Lenny!" Arthur bellows, the man stumbling and tripping over himself as he runs alongside the railing. "Lenny!!" he screams.

Arthur's steps are heavy and loud as he runs down the stairs, nearly face planting multiple times as he barely manages to keep himself upright.

"Leave the kid alone, you goddamn animals!" he demands aggressively, pointing at the men with a glare.

One of the men turn to look at Arthur, scowling.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" the man barks defensively.

Arthur snickers as he slowly strolls down the stairs closer.

"Nobody! I'm talking... to nobody!" Arthur lowly replies, smirking.

The man bristles at this, turning to fully face Arthur as he steps closer. Lenny focuses on the other man still trying to coax him down, Lenny's smile not faltering as he swings the bottle in the man's direction with a laugh.

"What did you say?" the man facing Arthur demands.

Arthur blinks. "What?" he loudly questions, the music of the piano ringing in his ears.

"I said, what did you say?" the man repeats loudly, voice hardened with anger as he steps towards Arthur with his shoulders squared.

Lenny hops off the bar and skedaddles to Arthur's side, his eyes wide and full of joy.

Arthur snorts, roughly shoving the man's chest in a lazy motion. "Get lost, buddy!"

"Shut up, mister!" a voice barks as the man pursuing Lenny joins the stranger's side, the piano music halting with a string of disharmonious notes.

"Yeah..." the man before Arthur agrees, steadying his footing. "Shut your mouth, mister."

The men ready themselves, one of the strangers taking a swing.

-

Somehow, someway, they'd settled their differences, the piano music filling the saloon, along with merry laughter from the group of men currently performing a surprisingly coordinated kickline dance.

-

Arthur's vision is blurry at the edges as the man stands outside the saloon, pissing into a patch of grass. He grumbles and sways a bit as he steadies himself, the man tucking himself away before stumbling back inside the saloon through the back door.

He beams ear to ear as he sees Lenny tending to the bar, the boy suddenly wearing the bartender's uniform.

"Lenny, my boy! What'chu doing?!" Arthur greets with a cheery laugh.

'Lenny' gives him a strange look.

"Lenny?" 'Lenny' questions with amusement.

Arthur blinks, and is caught off guard by the sight of the bartender standing where Lenny had just been a second ago.

"Maybe you should switch to water, my friend," the bartender continues with a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

Arthur staggers back as he blinks roughly, his eyes wide as he looks around the saloon. Everyone inside looked like Lenny to the man in his drunk state, his head spinning like a top as he tries not to topple over with every step he takes.

"Lenny, my boy!" Arthur bellows loudly and dramatically as he stumbles to the stairs, climbing up them slowly as he trips once more twice. "Lenny! There you are!" he greets with relief, spotting 'Lenny' at the top of the steps.

"How many have you had, pal?" the man questions with a raised brow, Arthur blinking and revealing it was, again, not Lenny.

Arthur growls at the man with a dismissive wave of his hand, continuing up to the left side of the second floor.

"Lenny... you... you... bastard!" Arthur whines with a frown, his eyes darting around. "Lenny!!"

He stumbles into the hallway, his hand running along the wall to keep his balance. He nearly trips as his hand slips off the frame of a door, his head turning to the door as he hears noises coming from inside.

"Lenny?!" Arthur questions frantically, shoving the door open.

He staggers and looks up, the sight making him freeze. There were two 'Lennys' on the bed. One was laying flat on the bed with his pants off but shirt still on, gripping the hips of the other 'Lenny' sitting on top of him— obviously riding him, this Lenny having a very feminine body yet still wearing Lenny's face.

The woman 'Lenny' looks over with a sharp gasp, covering her chest and letting out a loud scream, the 'Lenny' on the bed screaming as well. Arthur was snapped out of his stunned state, the man screaming as well as he turns and hauls ass out of the room, slamming the door behind him.